


Loving You Is A Blood Sport

by shankyknitter



Series: Love Me When I'm Gone [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: A/B/O Universe, A/B/O is background not focus, AU genre compliant non-con, Alpha Steve, F/M, I don't know why I keep doing horrible things to them, I really do love these characters, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Insecure Clint, M/M, Oh gods I am so sorry, Omega Natasha, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, alpha/omega dynamic, child abuse (flashbacks)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-02
Updated: 2014-10-21
Packaged: 2018-02-19 15:16:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 15
Words: 25,577
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2393150
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shankyknitter/pseuds/shankyknitter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clint knew no one pegged him for what he was. He played off that he took suppressors whenever the question of why he smelled off came up. He avoided situations that would give him away like the damn plague. It wasn’t that he was ashamed of what he was; he just didn’t feel like it was useful to have everyone know. As an assassin it was an asset that his orientation wasn’t public knowledge. </p><p>It’d saved his ass more than once when a mark figured he knew what Clint had to be and tried to use his hormones against him. The looks of surprise when the bastards failed were a constant source of grim joy. </p><p>And when he was no longer an assassin?</p><p>The team had enough damn Alphas without him getting into a dick measuring contest with the likes of Captain America.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

“Clint?” Natasha’s voice in his ear would have startled a lesser man into missing his shot. Clint however was used to being snuck up on by virtue of hearing loss and didn’t even flinch. He watched the arrow sink satisfyingly through the eye of the Loki target he used whenever Thor was off world before acknowledging her.

 

“What ‘Tasha?” It came out sharper than he’d intended. He pulled out a second arrow; lining up the shot to Loki’s other eye.

 

“I’m heating up.” That made him pause. He knew his partner was an omega. According the files they had every product of the Red Room came out that way, no matter how they may have gone in. For all she remembered, Natasha had always been omega. Maybe that’s why they’d picked her in the first place. That she’d had heats was common knowledge. What surprised him was that she was heating up again.

 

“Phil’s dead, ‘Tasha. What are you going to do?” He lined up a shot to Loki’s throat. Shooting kept him steady. Shooting kept him from thinking about why the small Russian had come to him after her bondmate’s death. Hell she shouldn’t even *have* heats anymore with Phil gone.

 

She slid into his field of vision, gently pushing the bow down demanding his full attention. “I was hoping you’d help.”

 

“Nat, I’m not-” He started.

 

“The fuck you’re not Barton.” She snapped. “You’re my partner. We spent months together at a time. You think I couldn’t tell?!” Her tone softened slightly. “I need someone I can trust Clint. And I’ve got precious few of those left.” If he didn’t know her any better he’d call that tone pleading. She reached out and stroked his cheek. “I need someone who won’t try to take Phil from me. I’m not asking you to bond with me. Hell if you tried I’d kill you.” He smirked at that.

 

He set the bow down. “I love you ‘Tasha. You know I’d go to the ends of the earth for you. Hell I almost broke Phil’s kneecaps on principle after he showed up covered in your scent.” That earned him a small, sad, smile from the red head. She was diplomatic enough not to mention that she’d threatened to garrote him with his own bowstring if he so much as touched the other man.

 

“I hear a ‘but’ coming.”  Her voice was neutral. He turned away, unable to look at her.

 

“But, if I do this I am outing myself to everyone in this tower. And how long do you think it’ll stay strictly tower knowledge? I trust Cap to keep his mouth shut about it, Stark and Banner are so caught up in each other that I’m pretty sure we could tap dance naked in the kitchen and they wouldn’t notice.

 

“But they aren’t the only ones who live or work here. There’s the delivery guys who’ll have to set up your nest, the secretaries, the cleaning people. All of whom are vetted by Stark, yes, but that’s a hell of a lot of potential leaks.” He snapped his bow case closed. “Before you know it all of New York will assume we’re bonded, if they don’t already. If we do this then the next mission I go on will be crawling with heated up omegas. So I can’t ‘Tasha. I love you, but I can’t.”

 

He didn’t turn around until his aids picked up the faint click of the door.

 

~*~

 

He could smell her everywhere. Everyone could. The whole tower reeked of Natasha. Clint felt stabs of guilt every time he caught a particularly strong whiff. He hated knowing she was suffering, and he could have helped, but he just couldn’t accept her offer. What he could do was stand watch outside her door. He’d done it before. It was common protocol for agents in the field should one of them heat up on an assignment. No one would question it. No one would assume he was an alpha protecting his pack.

 

More importantly no one would get in to see the other agent while she couldn’t refuse them. Not so long as he stood vigil.

 

Her scent was intoxicating. He felt the primal part of his brain responding, demanding he break down the door and take the omega behind it. He gritted his teeth and focused on his training. He could resist most omegas, he’d learned while he was a carnie and fucking the wrong person got the whole show run out of town. Learned when a lack of control got him beat. But that worked for average omegas, not soviet enhanced omegas designed to be irresistible distractions. But ‘Tasha was family. She was the closest he had to a sister. If he could focus on that then he might make it out of this.

 

She started moaning through the door, begging in broken Russian. He snarled at a beta maintenance worker who got too close and turned off his ears. He didn’t need to deal with hearing her on top of smelling her. It was going to a very long heat.

 

~*~

 

Three days later Natasha emerged, haggard and rumpled. Clint wordlessly handed her a bottle of vodka, she took three huge swigs before speaking.

 

“Burn it.” Her voice sounded raw, her eyes were red rimmed and overly bright. What else could he do? He nodded, kissed her on the forehead, and called for the clean-up crew.

 

**~*~**

“So, when can we expect to see your fireworks tailfeathers?” Clint had been sitting alone in the communal kitchen, enjoying his first solid meal since Natasha’s heat.

 

“You won’t, Stark. I’m on suppressors. Continuous does of alpha pheromones, tricks my damn hormones into thinkin’ I’m already knocked up. You forget, I’m the *normal* human. I can take advantage of modern medicine without worrying how it’ll mess with me being a science experiment.” He shot the other alpha a look. “Why so interested? Getting’ bored with Banner already?”

 

Tony pressed a hand against his chest in mock offense “One: I will never get bored with Brucie, he’s the only other person on this damn planet that speaks English. Two: I just wanted to know when I’d be treated to seeing a half-feral Widow sitting outside your door. It’s nice to know what halls to avoid and when. Helps me keep the bits Bruce loves so much.” He tried to steal some of Clint’s bacon and damn near lost his hand for his efforts.  “Besides, you need to come off suppressors eventually birdbrain. Those things aren’t approved for longer than five years in a stretch.”

 

“I’ve got this, Stark. I don’t need your help.” Clint growled and snatched up his, now empty, plate. “I know how long I can take them, and trust me, I’ll be long gone before me going into heat is a concern.” He slid the plate into place in the dishwasher and stalked out.

 

He was edgy. Too edgy. If he didn’t calm down someone was going to notice. Someone was bound to ask how come he was glaring at everything like a frustrated alpha. He needed to clear his head, needed to get ‘Tasha’s scent out of his nostrils. He needed to stop his blood from boiling.

 

If he was honest with himself, he needed to fuck someone. He was rarely honest with himself. He flat out refused to have angry one night stands. Drunk? Hell yes. Horny and can’t sleep? Bring ‘em on. Angry?

 

Angry and he hears screaming that he’ll never amount to jack. Angry and he feels fists thudding against his kidneys for losing control. Angry and he sees bruises on his gut from where the bastard’s knuckles connected.

 

Clint won’t fuck angry.

 

Next best thing is shooting. Clint grabs his bow, turns off his ears, and heads to the range, intent on loosing arrows until the world makes sense.

 

~*~

 

His target looked more like a pin cushion than a Norse god. Still Clint kept shooting. There was comfort in the power of the bow in his hands, the arrow whispering past his face as he let it fly. This is where he was useful, where he’d always been useful. This was where he could let his mind go blessedly blank without feeling like blue was about the creep in the edges. He lost himself in the rhythm. Nock, pull, release, nock, pull, release, peace.

 

A tap on the shoulder damn near caused him to kill Captain America. Well maybe not kill him, but even the serum would have a hard time healing an arrow wound through the heart. Steve put his hands up and stepped back. He tugged on his ear and shot Clint a questioning look. Clint lowered his bow and fiddled with his aids until sound crashed back into his skull.

 

“What Cap?” He winced at the volume of his own voice.

 

“You’ve been down here for hours, Barton. I was starting to get concerned.” Steve handed him a bottle of water. “Now, I’m not here to question why, or doubt you. I know you’ve got your reasons for hiding.”

 

Clint froze, bottle halfway to his lips. Steve continued.

 

“I may not be the most observant fella, but I’m not blind Clint. Your secret is safe; I’m not going to go telling stories that aren’t mine to tell. But I need to know we aren’t going to have any problems.” Steve’s eyes bore into Clint’s own.

 

“No, Sir.” Clint shook his head. Last thing he wanted to do was cause issues and give himself away. He had let Natasha down to keep himself safe, he wasn’t going to make her suffering pointless by making a stupid fucking power play.

 

“Good. Then I’m telling you, as a courtesy, that I intend to court Natasha. I’m not asking your permission, that’s for her to give not you, but this would go easier if I knew you didn’t have your sights on her too.” Steve’s voice was low, not quite challenging, but not casual either.

 

“You hurt her, Rogers and I swear not even the serum’ll heal what I do to you. Got it?” It wasn’t permission, Steve was right that permission wasn’t Clint’s to give, but it wasn’t warning him off either. Steve’d be good for ‘Tasha, as good as anyone could be with Phil dead. “And if she turns you down and you don’t run yourself off, then there will not be a place on earth that’ll be safe for you. Captain or not.”

 

Steve nodded, faint smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “I expected no less, Barton.” He stood, dusting off his thighs. “Anything I should know before I go risk my life for her?”

 

“Yeah. Don’t ever try to replace Phil.” Clint put his bow in its case, snapping it closed.

 

“Never even crossed my mind.”

 

~*~

 

Clint had to get out. He’d spent his whole life in motion, moving from city to city with the circus, then country to country with S.H.I.E.L.D. He couldn’t sit still any longer without crawling out of his skin.

 

Clint didn’t fit. He couldn’t deal with being in the tower any longer. Bruce was headed into heat making Tony snappish at anyone who so much as looked at the quiet man too long. Steve was trying desperately to get Natasha to realize he was actually interested in *her* while Nat tried to set him up with some woman from accounting. Clint was leaving that whole mess alone, ‘Tasha hadn’t actually told the Cap she wasn’t interested so the large blonde hadn’t overstepped any lines. ‘Tasha could also kill him herself if it came to that.

 

He had money, plenty of it. He’d never spent much and Phil had made sure he was well compensated for his time. He had more personal time accrued than he could ever use. He could go anywhere in the world he wanted.

 

He wanted to go home.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Implied alcoholism in this chapter. Fair warning.

He’d gotten himself a halfway decent trailer, partially because it was cheap, partially because it reminded him of the freedom of the circus. He’d gotten a plot in some Podunk town in the middle of nowhere, as far from the feel of New York as he could get. There was a diner, a bar, and some tiny mom and pop shops, all surrounded by miles of farmland.

 

Iowa was a nice long distance from D.C., but not as far away as Clint would have liked when news of the Winter Soldier flashed across his T.V. His guts turned watching shaking camera phone video of some metal armed side show freak throw a car. His stomach dropped when he saw ‘Tasha in the background.

 

His eyes flicked to the space above his bed where he bow lay hidden. He could go help. He should at least try. He’d die for ‘Tasha, happily and without hesitation. He looked back at the flickering screen and saw Cap throw himself between the flying car and the omega. He remembered why he’d left in the first place. He’d only be in the way.

 

He popped open a beer and changed the channel.

 

~*~

 

Two weeks later he was startled awake by a banging on his door. He groaned, blinking his bleary eyes into focus and trying to stop the throbbing in his skull. He stumbled his way to the door, trying to ignore the tinny sound of empty beer cans as he waded through them. _Just like dear old dad._ He kicked the thought aside viciously and wrenched the door open.

 

“Dear god, Clint. What have you done to yourself?!”

 

Natasha. Of course it was Natasha. Who else would be able to track him to a trailer in the middle of nowhere that he’d paid cash for? He stepped aside and gestured her in. It’s not like she’d never seen him in a bad place before. For weeks after Loki his apartment was utterly unlivable. Even the roaches had found better places to be.

 

“Nice to see you too ‘Tasha.” He started sarcastically, rubbing his ears quickly, trying to get the feedback from his aids to stop. “Why aren’t you in New York?” He rubbed his hand over his face, trying to wake himself up. “Coffee?”

 

She picked her way through the disaster of his home and started a pot herself. Clint made coffee too strong for anyone else to cope with. She used to tease him that his coffee made her homesick for soviet rations. She didn’t say a word while the pot dripped in the background, only cast disappointed eyes over his accommodations.

 

“Don’t even, Nat. I needed this. I didn’t ask you to come out here. You don’t get to be disappointed in me. Not now.” He settled his compact body back into his armchair. “Not until you tell me why you felt the need to visit.”

 

She said nothing at first; just put a mug of black coffee in his hand. He knew better than to push her any further. He’d worked with her long enough to know that if he did then he’d never hear what she needed to say. He waited patiently while she drank first one cup, then another.

 

“I burned myself, Barton. Every name, every address, every kill, every injury, every diagnosis. It’s all out there. Everything S.H.I.E.L.D knew the world knows.” She started quietly. He nodded, he’d seen her testimony on T.V. “I need to hide, but I’ve cleared all my webs. I was hoping you’d put me up for a while.”

 

“What about the Cap? He’d protect you. You know he would.” Clint made a slight face at his, now cold, coffee. He tried to will it into beer, knowing ‘Tasha would give him the eyebrow if he actually went for one.

 

“I’m not sure I want him to. I know what he’s after, and I don’t mind it. Not really.” She shook her head, long red hair swinging free. “But he’s part of why I need to hide. I can’t risk that again. Not after Phil.”

 

Clint could understand that. Bonds were supposed to be permanent. More often than not if one member of a bonded pair died the other would either follow them or go mad. He’d never heard of the rare few that escaped those fates ever going back into heat, or responding to another’s heat. The fact that Natasha *had*, and within months of losing her alpha, spoke to what the Red Room had done to her.

 

“So what are you going to do ‘Tasha?”

 

“Clean your place for one. I think there’s enough cans in here to build me a tin house.” She shot him a reproachful look, which he studiously ignored. “After that?” She shrugged. “Lay low. Figure out who I actually am and what I want. Decide if that is Steve. If so, then I’ll go back to New York and jump the bones of greatest triumph ever produced by bioengineering. If not? Well, I’ll figure that out it comes to it.”

 

Clint swigged the rest of his coffee before nodding. “You know I won’t throw you out ‘Tasha.” He got up and kissed her forehead. “But if you turn my sweet pad into some Martha Stewart shit I’ll have to kill you.”

 

That wrung a smile from her. “Barton, there’s nothing sweet about your pad, but I’d consider it an attempt at mercy. I may even let you get a shot off before killing you.”

 

“There’s my girl.”

 

~*~

 

It was easy to live with ‘Tasha. They’d played house often enough on missions to know each other’s quirks. Clint knew ‘Tasha couldn’t stand wearing socks in bed, but her feet were always cold, so he never bitched about her using his kidneys as toe warmers. ‘Tasha, in return, knew Clint was by no means a morning person and made sure there was coffee and breakfast when he dragged his ass out of bed. Clint pointedly ignored how his beer kept going missing faster than he drank it. Natasha never said a word about how more kept turning up.

 

The townies, Clint had never managed to drop the term entirely, thought they were in a barely acceptable omega/omega bond. They generally avoided the pair, but even without his aids in Clint knew what was being said. He briefly considered coming clean, if for no other reason than to give ‘Tasha a cover of respectability, but in the end he couldn’t do it. She either didn’t notice or didn’t care. Clint assumed it was the latter.

 

Slowly he watched ‘Tasha gain her footing, watched her figure out what she actually enjoyed. He beamed as she figured out simple things everyone ought to know, like favorite foods and colors. She’d never had a single thing that was hers, not a persona’s. The sheer joy that lit up her otherwise stoic features when she found something she loved was intoxicating. It was like watching a flower bloom and Clint loved every second.

 

Life was good. He was happy, she was happy. Sometimes he let himself forget they were a pair of international assassins hiding from the world. Some days he let himself pretend that she was his mate.

 

It was stupid and he knew it. For all he loved ‘Tasha, for everything he’d lay on the line for her, he didn’t love her the way she deserved to be loved. If he made a move to be more it would be out of comfort, not out of need for her. She didn’t deserve that. Not when she had Cap waiting in the wings, hoping she’d decide she wanted him. She deserved someone who would love her and treat her like she hung the stars, not an ex-carnie borderline alcoholic.  

 

Her heat hit. Unless he missed his guess it was worse than the last time. Her scent was more intense, she was more frantic. Her moans were replaced with high pitched whines, punctuated by cries of Cap’s name. Clint couldn’t stay in the confined trailer with the increasingly desperate omega. He was only human. He relocated to the roof and spent the next three days firing warning shots at curious townies that got too close, drawn by Natasha’s spreading heat scent.

 

~*~

 

Natasha touched his shoulder. He glanced up from cleaning their dinner dishes. She pointed to the T.V. and tapped her ear. He wiped his hands dry on a rag and turned his aids on.

 

“…the triumphant return of Captain America from the world wide man hunt for the man known only as Winter Soldier, assumed responsible for the devastation of Washington D.C. late last year.” The camera switched from the overly perky news anchor to a shaky recording of a tired looking Steve entering Stark Tower, accompanied by a ragged looking man with a metal arm. Pepper came out and faced down the reporters with a glare that froze Clint, a thousand miles and a T.V. screen away.

 

“At this time inside sources are mum as to the real identity of the so called Winter Soldier, which leaves many wondering: Who is this man? And why is Captain America so determined to protect him? More as this story develops.”

 

Clint shut off the T.V. and glanced at Natasha. “Your call, ‘Tasha. I’m not going to make you go back if you don’t want to, but you and I both know you do.” He watched her face carefully, but her mission mask had slid down, her features gave nothing away. “You can’t stay here forever ‘Tasha. One of these days some idiot’s going to force you to kill him and the Steve’ll find you anyway.” She almost smirked at that. In a rare tactful moment he didn’t mention hearing her heat cries for the other alpha.

 

A small eternity later she nodded. “Let’s go home. Both of us.”

 

~*~

 

He hadn’t wanted to. There was nothing for him in New York. He was better off alone in the middle of nowhere. But Natasha had given him the _Damnit Barton!_ look and he couldn’t refuse her. Which is how, two days later, he found himself driving from Iowa to Manhattan with Natasha beside him, her feet propped up on the dash.

 

“So what are you going to say to him ‘Tasha?”

 

“That you were so madly in love with him that we had to come back before you died of longing.” She tilted her head to look at him. He snorted.

 

“Won’t work. Cap knows what I am. He figured it out after your first heat at the tower. He came to me to make sure there wouldn’t be any complications on my end if he decided to go after you.”

 

“Well that’s inconvenient. Guess I’ll have to think of something else. Good thing it’s a long drive.” She settled back into her seat and closed her eyes.

 

Clint watched the road roll along under them both, Natasha’s soft breath the only sound he cared about.

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things are getting dark guys. The dark muse of angst is coming to Fuck Up Everyone's Shit. It's going to get worse before it gets better. Fair warning.

Clint had almost managed to forget what a bitch parking in New York was. He hadn’t wanted to go directly to the tower, and though she hadn’t said it he knew Natasha didn’t either. He’d booked a room about four blocks from Stark Tower and had spent the last hour circling for a place to park. ‘Tasha had already gone up to the room to do a sweep, and claim the more comfortable of the two beds. Clint was quickly hitting the point where he was going to leave the damn car in the middle of the street and let the fucking thing get towed when the clouds parted, angels sang, and a god damned spot opened up. He’d never been so happy to get out of a car and trudge through three city blocks at night.

 

He didn’t want to go to the room. He needed to stretch his legs, stretch his everything if he was being honest with himself. He picked a direction and started walking. He had no idea where he was going, or how long it would take to get there, but the middle of the night was the closest he was going to get to quiet. The city was never quiet. Half the time he ambled around with his aids off, just to escape the oppressive noise that humanity generated when crammed in close quarters. Even now there were drunks stumbling amiably, laughing at something only the truly intoxicated would find funny.

 

God he wanted a drink. There was a bar close by, he could stop in for one beer. He’d been so good lately.

 

_“Damnit I’ll have a fucking drink if I want a fucking drink!_ ”

_“Baby, please!”_

_“Shut up!” The sharp sound of a slap. His mother was crying._

_“Don hi’ mama!” A tiny body between his mother and the monster._

He bit down hard on the inside of his cheek, fingernails digging crescents into his palm. Natasha would kill him with his own socks if he came back smelling of booze. She’d kill him in more creative ways if he got drunk and couldn’t find the hotel again. With no small amount of effort he turned his heels, and trudged back to room.

 

~*~

 

Steve was waiting in the lobby, looking for all the world like a nervous teen on his first date, when Clint and Natasha went to check out. Clint glanced over at ‘Tasha, answering her unspoken question with a tiny shake of his head. No, he hadn’t told Cap they’d come back. But Jarvis was hooked into the city’s traffic cams, and Tony had probably had an alert set if they turned back up.

 

“Well, ‘Tasha? Ever figure out what you’re going to say?” Clint nudged the frozen red head. The sheer hope on Steve’s face was killing him. “Either tell him yes or turn him down now ‘Tasha.” Clint whispered, hoping Steve didn’t hear him.  Natasha squared her shoulders and marched forward, face unreadable. Clint couldn’t help holding his breath.

 

“Ever had Ethiopian food Steve? I seem to remember there being a good Ethiopian place around here and I haven’t figured out if I like it.” She put her hand in the crook of Steve’s elbow and damn near dragged the beaming super soldier out of the hotel and into the New York sun. Clint couldn’t help the grin that tugged at the corners of his lips as he collected her discarded bag and made for the car. At least Stark had a private garage he could park the damn thing in.

 

~*~

 

The first thing to hit Clint when he entered the tower was a wall of pungent heat scent. He could barely breathe. Why the fuck hadn’t Steve warned him? He could control his impulses. He refused to be nothing more than the sum of his hormones. But the scent of an omega in full blown heat still triggered reactions he couldn’t control. He strongly considered just leaving, going to a cheap hotel, and hiding there until whoever was in heat snapped out of it. His body vehemently disagreed.

 

He was still standing there, trying to force himself to move one way or the other, when Pepper entered the lobby. He plastered a smile on his face, trying to hide just how much he was being affected.

 

“Ah, Clint! Good to see you.” Pepper came forward and hugged him lightly. “There’s…a bit of a situation upstairs. We were hoping that Steve would be back with you.” She very delicately looked over his shoulder toward the door, as though Clint was somehow hiding Steve’s massive bulk.

 

“He’s been kidnapped by the former KGB and is being interrogated.” He could do this. If he could keep cracking jokes Pepper might not notice just how strongly the delicious smell was getting to him. He knew Pepper could smell it. She was beta; omega smell would tempt her but not get under her skin and _burn_.  Most of the employees of Stark Industries were beta or on suppressors. He suspected Pepper was behind that. He couldn’t imagine Tony would get anything done if he was surrounded by heated up employees, or employees trying to fuck the ones who were heated.

 

“He’s been WHAT?” Pepper’s sharp voice snapped him back to the moment.

 

“Natasha is taking him for lunch.” He felt his head going fuzzy. He needed to focus. He needed to leave. He needed an excuse so Pepper wouldn’t notice. He needed the universe to go his way, just this once.

 

“Well that’s inconvenient. Lovely, but inconvenient.” Pepper closed her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose.  She sighed and Clint hoped he was about to get his chance to escape. “There’s nothing for it I suppose. Clint we could use your assistance.”

 

 

“What is the situation Pepper?” Maybe she would ask him to go get Steve. It was false hope he knew, but false hope was better than no hope. She glanced around the crowded lobby and shook her head slightly; her meaning was clear. Not Here. She made for the elevator and he felt his shoulders slump. Leaving would look more suspicious than just going with her. Out of habit he took a deep breath to clear his mind, and instantly regretted it. All it did was pull more of the heavy aroma into his lungs and send another pulse of want directly to his cock. He had to get a hold of himself.

 

As soon as the doors slid shut on the private elevator Pepper began to fill him in. “You are aware Steve located the Winter Soldier correct?”

 

Clint nodded; he couldn’t speak around the lump of want in his throat. No one’s heat had ever affected him this strongly. Not even Natasha’s enhanced heats.

 

“We are keeping his true identity from the media for the time being. However the Winter Solider is James Barnes.” Pepper continued. “Yes, that James Barnes.” She hadn’t even looked at him, apparently she’d had this conversation before.

 

“That explains why you wanted Steve.” Clint forced out.

 

“Yes and no. As I’m sure you can smell Sargent Barnes appears to have gone into heat. Suddenly actually. He was fine this morning when Steve left, about two hours ago he started to show signs, and now, well.” she paused, searching for the words. “I have never seen someone heat up that fast, or this hard. We were hoping Steve could help him.”

 

“And you were hoping Steve could help him.” Clint repeated incredulously. “Say what you mean Pepper. You were hoping Steve could fuck him out of it.”

 

The look she shot him would have melted steel. “What else would you suggest, Agent Barton? How would you deal with a decidedly unstable omega assassin in full blown heat? An omega assassin who by all records and indications has never experienced being in heat before, and by all accounts shouldn’t even be an omega to begin with? We determined Steve to be the safest option.”

 

“Send in another omega. Sympathetic pheromones should help calm him down.”

 

She shook her head sadly. “We tried that when he first started to spike. Bruce went in and almost got himself killed. We had to sedate Tony to stop him from trying to kill Barnes.” Clint just stared at her. It took effort to keep his mouth from falling open, but he managed it. Barely.

 

“Then set a guard outside his door and let him ride it out.”

 

“You haven’t seen him Clint. Forcing him through this alone would be nothing short of torture. The man’s had enough of that to last several life times.” Pepper just sounded tired. “Steve really would have been the best option.”

 

The elevator dinged softly and the doors slid open, allowing another wave of heat scent to crash over Clint. He couldn’t think straight. Something was pushing at the back of his mind, something important. Some connection he should have made himself.  He kept following the tall woman down the well-lit hallway.

 

“I’m so sorry Clint. I swear to you we will get you both the best treatment we can after this.” Pepper sounded truly contrite. Clint tried to focus. Something was wrong. He had to _Think._ Pepper stroked a hand down the back of his head, a fond gesture that was so unlike her that alarm bells went off in his lust fueled haze.

 

“Pepper…?” His voice felt thick in his throat, his words slurred. She looked at him sadly. They’d stopped in front of a thick looking door.

 

“I’m sorry.” She whispered. He almost didn’t catch it. In one motion the door slid open and Pepper shoved him through. He spun to see the door slamming closed.

 

He heard a high pitched needy whine behind him. He froze, almost afraid to look. There it was again, a desperate moan. Against his will his body turned around. His mouth went dry. The smell had been bad. The sounds had been worse. Nothing _nothing_ compared to the sight.

 

The brunette he’s seen on the news clip with Steve was splayed out on the floor. Sweat matted his long hair against his skull, plastering strands to his neck. His eyes were screwed shut, tears leaking out the corners. He was completely naked. His right hand clenched tightly around his weeping cock, his left hand, -his metal hand, some part of Clint noted absently- was pumping three fingers into his gaping, freely flowing hole. He threw his head back and keened, a thin film of sweat covering his skin.

 

Clint was more than his hormones.

 

But, in the end, he was only human.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter beta'd by the awesome bairnsidhe. 
> 
> If you or someone you love struggles with alcoholism I strongly encourage you to go to www.aa.org. Even if they are not ready to admit they need help they have resources for helping you support your loved ones without enabling their addiction.

“YOU DID WHAT?!” Natasha’s voice cut through his dreams and startled Clint awake. ‘Tasha never yelled. _Don’t get loud; it just warns your mark_ she’d said to him once. It may as well have been her motto. He blinked, trying to get his eyes to focus, trying to get his bearings. Something shifted beside him. His training took over and he leapt to his feet. He scanned the room, quickly taking stock of the situation.

 

He was naked. His clothes were over in the corner, torn into rags. He had no weapons. He was in a small room with rubberized walls. _An emergency heat room_ a voice in the back of his head helpfully supplied. In the middle of the floor, covered in fluids Clint didn’t want to contemplate, was a sound asleep man. His eyes widened. Memories of the last few hours, days? He wasn’t sure, came crashing down.

 

He didn’t. He couldn’t have. He wouldn’t have. He was better than that. He wasn’t his father.

 

He looked back at the man asleep on the floor.

 

He did. He was.

 

His stomach lurched. He heaved into the corner.

 

~*~

 

Hours later he sat in the common room, showered and shell shocked. Natasha sat beside him, not touching him but a comforting presence none the less. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen the red headed omega this angry. That included Budapest. Behind her, Steve had a white knuckled grip on the couch. Facing them was a contrite Pepper and bandaged Bruce, Tony’s hands resting protectively on the other man’s shoulders.

 

“We had no choice.” Pepper began.

 

“No. Choice.” Natasha bit out. “You mean to tell me you had _absolutely no other choice_ but to shove Barton into a confined space with a man he’d never met, in full blown heat, who’d already injured one of our other teammates. None at all? Because I don’t buy that for a fucking second.” Steve put a hand on her shoulder, stopping her before she got too much further. Clint did his best not to shrink into the couch in self-disgust. It figured that the day Natasha got her shit figured out he’d ruin it somehow.  

 

_Worthless piece of shit, you can’t do a damn thing without fucking it up!_

 

No one would meet his eye. That was the worst part he supposed. Well aside from waking up and realizing he’d raped Captain America’s best friend. It was kind of hard to top that for ‘worst damn thing to happen to him.’ Though now that he thought about it, blowing his cover and being made for an alpha was pretty up there. So maybe no one meeting his eye was actually pretty low on his list of shitty things to happen today.

 

“Look, as much as I wish there had been another option, as much as I will never forgive myself for shoving Agent Barton through that door, no. We did not have a better option. We introduced synthetic alpha pheromones; that only made him worse. We’d tried sedating Sargent Barnes, the sedative had no effect. We attempted to introduce another omega for sympathetic calming; you can see how well that worked.” Pepper gestured to Bruce. She looked at Steve “We had been trying to reach you since he first started showing heat signs to ask for help, but couldn’t. When Agent Barton arrived, and reacted as strongly as he did, we knew the only option we had left was to introduce him as a viable alpha and hope for the best.”

 

Clint watched Steve mulling everything over, the muscles in his jaw twitching to argue. He knew the moment the super soldier gave in to their logic. He was used to reading people and the resignation was written Steve’s face clear as day.

 

“Buck wasn’t like this. He was a beta. A mouthy beta I’ll grant you. But he never had heats, was never supposed to.” Steve gripped the couch and Natasha harder. She bought one dainty hand up to cover his massive one, her face slipped back into unreadability. Steve sucked in a breath. “What’s done is done, no amount of wishing or yelling will undo it. This doesn’t mean I agree with what you did Ms. Potts. Nor do I think you’ve got any right to be forgiven for it. How do we fix it?”

 

Clint was used to being talked about like he wasn’t even in the room most days. Why shouldn’t he be? It wasn’t like he had much to contribute by way of brains. He’d had that knocked into him enough times as a kid not to question it. But somehow this was worse. Of course they’d focus on Barnes. That was only fair. He was the guy that’d been tortured through the whole damn cold war only to wind up locked in a room he didn’t recognize, in a heat he had no way to prepare for, with a guy he’d never met.

 

_“Please baby, please don’t.”_

_“You’re my wife woman, if I say yes then that’s all that fucking matters.”_

_His mother was crying. He and Barney hid in their closet, his brother holding Clint’s small head pressed against his chest. He tried to listen to his brother’s heartbeat. Tried to make is drown out the sound of something bad he didn’t understand._

Clint felt the bile rise in this throat again and made it to the bathroom just in time.

 

~*~

 

Natasha’s hand was warm, brushing the hair out of his face. “Clint? Come on Barton, wake up.”

 

He groaned. Everything was cramped. The bathroom floor was not the best place to pass out, but he couldn’t bring himself to face the parade of faces in the other room. He pressed his forehead against the cold porcelain bowl. “Go ‘way Nat, not in the mood for a pep talk.”

 

He felt her settle down on the tile beside him. She probably had one of those infuriating sympathetic faces that she wore for interrogations. Was most likely going to give him some bullshit line about how it wasn’t his fault, how biology just takes over, how anyone would have lost control and done exactly what he did.

 

“You screwed up, Barton.”

 

Well that was… unexpected. He raised his head a little and fixed her with one cold blue eye. She wasn’t even looking at him.

 

“You screwed up when you didn’t leave the lobby. I saw the footage. You screwed up when you followed Pepper instead of telling her no and accepting that your cover was already blown.” She looked over at him, face impassive. “You screwed up when you didn’t call my emergency cell. You screwed up when you got out of that elevator instead of pushing the down button as hard as you could.” He closed his eyes and turned his head back against the toilet.

 

“The last screw up you made was not shoving Pepper in there and making her deal with it herself.”

 

His eyes shot open. “I _raped_ him ‘Tasha. That’s a pretty fucking big screw up.”

 

“Clint, do us both a favor and shut up and _think_ for a minute.” She forced him to look at her. “You brought me back here because I was getting bad enough that I was having trouble coping with myself. And I know how to deal with heat; I was trained to use it as a weapon and distraction. When Steve and I got back you’d been in there with Barnes for a couple of hours and we could still smell him _outside._ ” She looked him dead in eye when he didn’t respond.

 

“What happened was horrible, for you as well as Barnes. But know what? You’ve never known what that want was like, I doubt even I do. Trust me when I say what he would be going through, and putting the rest of us through while he worked it out of his system, is far worse than anything you could have done to him in there.” She kissed his forehead. “And trust me my Hawk, of all the alphas in this tower that could have been shoved in there, I’d bet my life you were the least traumatic option.”

 

“Still doesn’t make it right ‘Tasha. He couldn’t say no.” Clint shrugged her off.

 

_Please baby no, not where the boys can hear._

 

“I need to get out for a while. I need a beer. I need several beers.” He stood.

 

“Clint-”

 

“Don’t ‘Tasha. Just don’t.”

 

~*~

 

The bar was dirty and dark. The music was too loud. It was fucking perfect. Clint sat and ordered some shit they had by the bottle, he really didn’t care what it was so long as the bar tender kept it coming. He swallowed half the bottle in one long draw, polished it off, and signaled for another.

 

Halfway through his fourth he was starting to feel better. He was comfortably situated in the place between sober and drunk, the place where he had control of himself but his father’s voice shut up. He could still think, still knew who he was, still knew his choices were his own, but didn’t have to think if he didn’t want to. He barely noticed when someone sat on the stool next to him.

 

“I’ll have what he’s having.” It took him a moment to register Bruce beside him. The other man looked terrible. His right arm was in a sling close to his chest, there was a bandage poking out of the neck line of his shirt and he was moving with a tenderness that implied cracked if not broken ribs.

 

“No Doc. I know they’ve got ya on the good stuff, no way you’re cleared to drink on that shit.” Clint tried to wave the bartender back and cancel the order. The bastard didn’t see him and brought Bruce his drink.

 

“Barton, I know exactly what I’m on and know exactly what this is going to do. Or rather how much I can have before it does anything.” He took a swig.

 

“What are you doing here, Banner?” Clint tipped his own bottle and took a deep draw.

 

“Felt like having a drink.” He said mildly, he glanced around the little hole in the wall place they were in. “Though I would have picked a nicer place to do it.”

 

Clint shrugged. “Beer’s cheap, no media dogs outside looking to do a story on the Amazing Alcoholic Hawkeye.” He gestured in the air bitterly. “Because that’s just what everyone needs right now, more bad press from the asshole with the bow.”

 

“Do you think you’re an alcoholic Clint?” Bruce’s voice was mild as he sipped at his beer. Clint could see him trying to repress a grimace at the taste. The man had never been much of a drinker. Clint didn’t answer. There was no right answer. If he said he was then he was admitting to himself he had no control over his actions. He knew what that felt like and he’d be damned if he was going back there.

 

If he said he wasn’t…

 

_“Shut up bitch! It isn’t my fault you and your fucking bastards make me drink!”_

_“Baby, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it.” A sharp slap, his mother’s head whipping sideways._

_“Damn straight you didn’t. Get me a god damned drink before I give you another.”_

Clint flinched. He hadn’t had enough to drink. He signaled for another, noticing Bruce do the same.

 

“What the hell are you doing Doc? You tryin’ to make yourself sick?” He was starting to slur but he didn’t care.

 

“Are you?” Clint shifted slightly under Bruce’s stare. “No one blames you, Clint.”

 

“Cut the shit Banner. I’m a fucking monster and you know it.” Clint snagged his seventh? Eighth? It didn’t matter.

 

“If you’re a monster, what does that make me?” Bruce’s voice was so soft Clint almost missed it.

 

“You made a mistake. I saw your file. You’re not a monster; you’ve got one on a leash.” The way Bruce looked at him while he spoke made Clint think he’d missed something important. He hated that feeling.

 

“I hope you remember this conversation sober, Barton. I really hope you do.” Bruce flagged down the bar tender and gestured for both men’s tabs. He waved away Clint’s protests. “Consider it a gift. You needed this, I’m not going to lecture you. Just don’t make a habit of it Barton. You’re not your father.” Clint’s head snapped up.

 

“How did you…? Natasha.” Clint damn near growled. His partner was the only one who knew, and even that was the result of getting drunk around the best damn spy he’d ever heard of.

 

Bruce shook his head. “She’s worried about you. At least I think she is. That woman is hard to read.” The corner of Bruce’s lips turned up in a rueful grin. “But she didn’t give you away. You’re not the only one with a crappy up-bringing, Barton. Come on; let’s get you back before Romanov makes good on her threat to finish with the good Sargent started.”  He patted Clint on the back with his good arm.

 

The archer gave one last, longing, look at the line of bottles along bar. He sighed, threw down a tip and followed Banner out.


	5. Chapter 5

He couldn’t sleep. Closing his eyes brought his mother’s face, full of betrayal and disappointment. Closing his eyes brought Loki’s voice taunting him with every time he’d made the wrong decision, promising freedom from ever making the wrong choice again. Closing his eyes brought his father’s laughter.

 

After the fourth or fifth failed attempt Clint gave up on rest. He rolled to look at the clock.

 

3:30am.

 

Even Natasha wouldn’t be up for another two hours. Assuming Steve hadn’t convinced her to stay in bed. Or, on further reflection, assuming Steve didn’t wake up earlier. Clint threw his blankets off and got up. Maybe there was some kind of marathon on. There generally was at ass o’clock in the morning if he remembered correctly. He glanced at his nightstand and the hearing aids sitting in their case, debating putting them in. In the end he left them where they were, he didn’t feel like dealing with anyone.

 

He padded his way to the shared living room. No one else would be awake yet and he hadn’t exactly gone shopping for a T.V. for his suite yet. He’d taken the last one back to Iowa with him, but with a car full of Natasha’s things on top of his own he’d left it there. He flopped down on the couch, put the massive T.V. on mute with subtitles and hunted for some reruns. He found an Iron Chef marathon with Alton Brown and decided it was good enough.

 

~*~

 

He’d lost track of time. The room was brighter but it had been so gradual that he hadn’t noticed. Movement flickered out of the corner of his eye. He froze, cursing himself for not putting in his aids. He turned his head slowly and deliberately to see just who was in the living room with him. Steve was sitting in the armchair, watching him.

 

Clint swung his legs off the couch and sat up. Steve started to say something, but he was covering his mouth so Clint couldn’t see exactly what the other man was trying to tell him. He held up a hand.

 

“Cap? I don’t have my ears on. I’m going to ask a yes or no question, just nod or shake your head. Ok?” Steve nodded.

 

“Is this about what happened yesterday?” Nod.

 

“Then I don’t want to hear it. I’ve gotten enough lectures on how what happened wasn’t my fault and I can’t blame myself. I don’t need another one, not from the guy that’s supposed to be my victim’s best friend.” Steve shook his head vigorously. He tugged on his ears and gestured to Clint. “I am not putting my ears in for another lecture, Cap.”

 

Steve shook his head again, clearly getting frustrated. He tugged more insistently on his own ear and pointed at Clint, eyes hard. Clint stared back and didn’t flinch. Steve may be the team’s alpha, may be his partner’s new alpha, but he sure as shit wasn’t Clint’s. Steve blinked first. He made a bad pantomime of a shooting motion and looked at Clint questioningly.

 

“Yeah. I guess that’s a good idea.” Shooting cleared his head almost as well as alcohol and he had a feeling Steve would object to breakfast beer.

 

~*~

 

The range was empty this ungodly early. Even having put his aids in the place was blessedly quiet. He drew his bow and let the steady rhythm of nock, draw, and release lull the voices in his head into silence. Each shot was a spit in the eye of everyone who’d called him a worthless fuck up. He was good at this damn it. Even if it was all he was good at. He could almost forget that Steve was sitting there, watching him, waiting for him to be calm enough to listen.

 

“You know, Buck was a sniper in the war. But I don’t know if he was ever this good. I’d pay money to see you two target shoot.” Steve commented idly. Clint tensed slightly, causing his shot to land a good quarter inch left. “Then again who knows whether he’ll want to shoot anymore once he’s fully lucid?”

 

Nock, draw, and release. If he shot he didn’t have to say anything.

 

“I think you’d like him, Clint. More to the point I think he’d like you.” Steve continued. Clint took a deep breath, aiming the next arrow at the target instead of Cap’s face.

 

“A little late for introductions Cap.” The arrow gave a satisfying thunk downrange as it slammed home.

 

“That wasn’t-”

 

“Rogers I swear if the next words out of your mouth are ‘your fault’ I will put the next one through your kneecap.”

 

“-Bucky.” Steve continued as if Clint hadn’t spoken. “The person you saw in there. That wasn’t Bucky. I don’t know who that was but I know it wasn’t him. And if the people who turned Bucky into that aren’t already dead I will kill them myself.” There was an uncharacteristic cruelty to the other alpha’s voice. Clint knew the feeling. If ‘Tasha hadn’t assured him the bastards responsible for her own conditioning were already taken care of he’d have a few arrows set aside for them.

 

“Thing is Barton, I don’t know how to help him. He’s… busted up. In ways I don’t know how to put back together.” Clint glanced over, Steve just looked defeated. “Part of why I was waiting in that hotel for you yesterday was to talk to you. I wasn’t expecting Nat to drag me off like she did.”

 

“Me? What the hell can I do that you can’t?” Another arrow punched through the bull’s eye.

 

“Well that for starters.” Clint snorted at that and lined up another shot. “What I had been referring to was the incident with Loki.” The shot went wide.

 

“Right, because brainwashing is the best topic to become drinking buddies over. Remind me tell ‘Tasha not to let you play match maker. Ever.” He could do this, he just had to joke through the conversation until Steve realized what a bad idea he was having and gave up. Annoyingly he didn’t take the bait.

 

“I have no frame of reference. If he needed to figure out how to live in a world with microwaves and cell phones I could try to help.”

 

“Cap, last I checked you’re not allowed near the microwave.” Clint didn’t look away from his next target.

 

“It’s a microwave _oven_ how was I supposed to know not to put a metal baking dish in there?” Steve cried indignantly. “And that’s beside the point.”

 

“What about ‘Tasha? She’s ex-KGB. That’s got to be closer than brainwashed by a god.” Nock, draw, release.

 

Steve shook his head. “She was a target in D.C. Don’t take this the wrong way Barton, but I am not going to bet my omega’s life that he won’t see her as a mission.”

 

 

“I’m going to tell ‘Tasha you don’t think she can hold her own. Then I’m going to have Jarvis record the fight and sell tickets. I’m going to be rich.”

 

“I’m serious Clint. Please?” He’d never heard Cap ask for anything. Explain how it was the best option for puppies and patriotism, yes. Flat out ask? No. He lowered his bow, arms filled with a pleasant and familiar ache.

 

“One meeting Cap. One. After that it’s up to him if he ever has to see me again. He’s already seen me once without getting a say in it.”

 

~*~

 

Clint had talked Steve into being there, and bringing Barnes up to his suite. If the assassin resisted being moved to somewhere else then that was it. Steve agreed with him that forcing Barnes to do anything would be counter to helping the man. Clint still wasn’t convinced seeing the alpha they’d tossed on him would help, but he’d promised one meeting.

 

Clint puttered around in his small kitchen, making coffee. For all ‘Tasha teased him about how strong his coffee was, he needed something to drink. He could switch to something stronger when he didn’t have a mentally unstable super soldier in his apartment. He glanced at his liquor cabinet, provided by Stark, and made a mental note to go to the store when all this was said and done. A discreet knock on the door made him hit the start button on the coffee pot and get up to go answer.

 

He noticed Barnes first. The man was standing behind Steve, somehow looming over the larger soldier. His still damp hair was pulled back into a neat pony tail. Someone had managed to find him a pair of jeans and a long sleeve shirt to hide his distinctive left arm. He wasn’t quite scowling, but he didn’t have Natasha’s ability to keep his face completely blank. He looked deadly, even standing behind Cap. Clint felt something in him throb looking at the brunette. He squashed it down and gestured the pair in.

 

“Coffee’s brewing. Don’t have much else in here yet.” Clint heard himself saying to break the silence.

 

“Coffee’d be wonderful. Black please, Clint.” Cap responded politely. Barnes only flicked his eyes over to the pot. ‘Yeah, this is going to go really well.’ Clint thought sarcastically. On a hunch brought a cup with a splash of milk added and set it down in front of the assassin before bringing over two unaltered mugs for him and Steve. He might have been imagining it but he thought he saw a faint smile on Barnes’s face.

 

“You are the alpha I was given.” It wasn’t a question. The bottom dropped out of Clint’s stomach.

 

“Given is a strong term.” Clint sat down. He could do this. He sipped at his drink to keep his hands steady.

 

“You were very kind.” Barnes spoke in a halting tone, as though he knew what he wanted to say but wasn’t sure what the words were. Clint blinked. His aids had to be screwed up, or Barnes had been coached. There was no way he’d just heard what he thought he had. “Others would not have been.”

 

“You couldn’t say no.”

 

“Neither could you, Agent Barton.” Clint had no response to that. If the man was determined not to blame him, then he wouldn’t argue. Out loud. From everything Clint had heard Barnes hadn’t been able to make his own judgments in a while. He was not going to continue that trend if he could help it. Barnes was probably so screwed up that he thought what Clint had done was normal, was expected. So Clint just shrugged.

 

“Holy- Clint, what on earth did you make this with? Tar?!” Steve sputtered out. Clint would forever be grateful for the change in topic.

 

“Hey, I know ‘Tasha told you why she always makes it. You were warned big guy.” He took an exaggerated sip of his own coffee, just to watch Cap’s face turn.

 

“She didn’t tell me that I’d be drinking sludge! Just that your coffee made her homesick!”

 

“Cap, she grew up in soviet Russia.”

 

“I missed the cold war.”

 

“Right, you were a Capcicle.”

 

“I did not think I would ever find anyone else who made this correctly. Thank you Agent Barton.” Barnes cut in. Clint knew he wasn’t imagining the smirk this time. It was a crooked, wolfish, thing that sent his blood racing.

 

“See?! Thank you! _Someone_ appreciates me.” Clint threw hands in the air and leaned back in his chair. Maybe, maybe he could do this after all.

 

~*~

 

Natasha slid in as he was finishing washing out the mugs. She pulled herself up on the counter and watched him quietly.

 

“You know I make food there right?”

 

“You don’t have any food to make.”

 

“Not the point ‘Tasha. No butts on food prep surfaces.” He nudged her with his shoulder and she hopped down.

 

“You inflicted your coffee on my alpha. By the terms of the Geneva Convention I must now kill you.” She teased lightly.

 

“Hey, he lived through it. Barnes even liked it.” He protested.

 

“Bucky is mentally unstable and NOT a reliable indicator of taste.”  She shot him a fond look. “But he is doing better than he has been according to Steve. You’re good for him, Barton.” She stroked his cheek.

 

“You want me to see him again.” It wasn’t a question. He’d agreed to one meeting, one. That was it. He was done.

 

Natasha shook her head. “He does.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is un-beta'd, any mistakes are mine.

He shouldn’t have been surprised when Steve found him at the range at 4am. Somehow he’d figured the super soldier would know he hadn’t been asleep. He was kidding himself if he pretended he wasn’t expecting this.

 

“Bucky likes you. I haven’t seen him that relaxed since I brought him here.” Well, Cap never had been a master of subtly. Clint just focused on his target.

 

“To quote Natasha: Bucky is mentally unstable and not a reliable indicator of taste.” He let the shot fly. Steve shifted uncomfortably in the corner of his vision. 

 

“He remembered yesterday. After we left, I mean. Remembered pokin’ fun at me for not being able to handle my joe. He remembered me teasin’ him for drinking rotgut.” Steve sounded wistful. “It’s the first time he remembered something on his own.”

 

“That so?” Clint fired again.

 

“He was asking about you, Barton.” Steve was trying, and failing, to sound nonchalant about it. It made sense that he’d want Clint to keep meeting with his friend. If the situation was reversed he’d make damn sure ‘Tasha got everything she needed to remember. As it stood she wanted her lost memories to stay lost.

 

“What’d you tell him?” He was running out of arrows and his arms ached. Now was as good a time as any to stop.  He turned his back on Steve to put his bow back in its case.

 

“The truth.”

 

“Yeah? Which part of it?” He snapped the case closed. “The part where I killed my coworkers then ran away for a year? The part where after I raped him I went and got drunk? Or the part about every time I try to sleep I see my father doing the same things to my mother, and know that I’m no better than the bastard?” God he needed a drink. It was 4:30 in the morning but this was New York City. There had to be a bar open somewhere, if he took a long enough walk he’d find it.

 

“I told him how you looked after Natasha. I told him about you trying to put an arrow through Loki’s eye socket the second you got a chance. I told him that you had no enhancements or super powers because you were the only one on this team who didn’t need them.” Steve grabbed him and spun him around, looking him dead in the eye. “And I’m getting tired of you being the only one who doesn’t see that.”

 

“What do you want me to say, Cap? Oh God you’re right! You’ve fixed what years of S.H.I.E.L.D ordered therapists couldn’t even touch! All I needed was someone to tell me I’m amazing!” Clint said mockingly. “‘Cause I’ll say it but you and I both know it’ll be bullshit.” He shook off the other alpha’s grip.

 

“You are beyond a doubt one of the most frustrating people I have ever met, Barton.” Steve almost growled.

 

“It’s my charm.” Clint grabbed his bow case and turned to head to the elevator.

 

“Will you at least help Bucky?” Steve called after him.

 

“I agreed to one meeting, Cap. If he wants to see me then the rest is on him.” Clint tossed back over his shoulder, never once breaking stride.

 

~*~

 

He’d finally managed to get to and from the liquor store on his third attempt out. The first attempt had been thwarted by Natasha demanding a sparring partner; the second by Banner asking for a second set of steady hands in the lab. He had a sneaking suspicion that Jarvis was warning them when he attempted to leave. He resisted the urge to do a small victory dance when he managed to get back to his suite, beer in hand.

 

He cracked open one of the cheap cans, raised it to his lips…

 

And was interrupted by a knock at his door. Clint cursed and slammed the can down on the counter. He wanted to sleep damn it and if he had to be drunk to get there then he was damn well going to drink. He stormed over to rip the door open, intent on tearing a new asshole into whoever was coming between him and his alcohol now.

 

The angry words died in his throat. Whoever he’d been expecting, it hadn’t been Barnes. Especially not only Barnes. He looked almost shy, like he was about to be turned away or kicked. Someone, he suspected Natasha, had given the man a fitted t-shirt and was keeping him supplied in jeans that were a shade too tight. Clint had to put forth effort to keep his jaw from dropping. Barnes rubbed the back of his neck with his flesh and blood hand.

 

“May I come in, Agent Barton?” His voice made Clint’s mouth water. Suddenly all he could remember was how that same voice sounded heated and keening. He forced the thought away and stepped to one side.

 

“Should I be concerned that you’re alone, Sargent Barnes?”  Clint managed to ask, checking the hall for Steve and not seeing him.

 

“You are safe from me, Agent Barton. There are precious few who can say that.” Barnes stepped past him to stand awkwardly in Clint’s entryway. “Steve informed me that if I wished to see you again then I must come to you on my own. And so I have.”

 

Damn it. Someday, someday soon in fact, he was going to put an arrow through Cap’s knees. The bastard would utterly deserve it. He took a steadying breath.

 

“So I’d told him. Look, Barnes-” Clint began, closing the door.

 

“Bucky.” The brunette interjected.

 

“What?”

 

“I have been told my name is Bucky. It would be,” He stopped for a moment, searching for the right word. “Pleasant to hear you use it.” His voice still held a tinge of a Russian accent, his phrasing too perfect to sound natural. But it was clear he was trying. Clint nodded, if that’s what he wanted to be called then that’s what Clint would call him.

 

“Look, Bucky” Clint tried to ignore how the other man half smiled at the sound of his name. “I’m not sure I can help you. Frankly I don’t know how I could. What I did to you, that wasn’t right. And forcing you to see me and talk to me after that? That’s not right either.” Clint looked up at the taller man standing in front of him. “And I’ll be damned if Cap gets to make you do this out of a halfcocked idea of helping.”

 

“Agent Barton, I am here because I wish to be. If you would prefer to be alone however, I will leave.” He looked like a kicked puppy. Clint didn’t have the heart to tell him no. The guy had been through hell, Clint reminded himself, and he was reaching out. He remembered what being there was like, remembered how hard it was to even open up to Natasha after Loki. Bucky might be picking the worst person he could to confide in, but Clint wasn’t going to be responsible for shutting the guy down.

 

“No, you don’t have to leave. You can only stay here on one condition though.” Clint saw him tense up. “If you want me to call you Bucky, then it’s only fair you call me Clint.” The smile on Bucky’s face hit him square in the chest.

 

“I’d like that, Clint. I’d like that very much.” He tried to ignore how his name sounded coming from the other man’s lips.

 

“Good. Coffee?” He shot Bucky a crooked grin and went to start a fresh pot.

 

His opened beer sat on the counter; forgotten.


	7. Chapter 7

Clint and Bucky had migrated from the small kitchen table to the couch in the living room when Natasha slipped in without knocking, Steve following close behind. Clint hadn’t heard her come in over the movie he was trying to show Bucky.

 

“That is a terrible position! He would be made in less than 30 seconds with the number of cameras the organization has access to. He’s trying to get himself killed isn’t he?!” The more relaxed Bucky got the less formal his speech became, and the less his accent came through.

 

“Bucky, it’s a movie.” Clint was trying desperately not to laugh. He’d thought a movie with sniping would be something Bucky could relate to. He didn’t realize he’d pick apart Bourne Legacy so badly.

 

“It’s an offense is what it is! Sloppy work.” Bucky was almost pouting. Clint couldn’t hold it back anymore and let out a chuckle at the other man’s face.

 

He wasn’t the only one.

 

In less than a second Bucky was off the couch and dropped into a defensive crouch facing where Steve’s laugh had come from. Steve swung Natasha behind him and put his hands up.

 

“Easy, Buck. It’s just us.” He said soothingly. The brunette didn’t move. “Didn’t mean to sneak up on ya. Nat and I were just looking for Barton. We didn’t realize you were here.” Bucky’s body stayed tense, his eyes flicked back to Clint, looking for orders or reassurance, Clint wasn’t sure which.

 

He stood. “You know Rogers, most people knock.” He put a hand on Bucky’s shoulder and the larger man finally relaxed enough to stand.

 

“Barton, I haven’t knocked on your door in years.” Natasha came out from behind her alpha. “I’m not going to start now.” She glanced around the suite and zeroed in on the beer can on the counter. Without a word she strode over and made to smack Clint lightly upside the head. She was the only person in the world who could get away with that and knew it. Before she made contact her wrist was caught firmly in a metal grip.

 

“I would not do such things, Agent Romanov.” Bucky’s voice was a low growl. The whole room froze. Clint moved first.

 

“Bucky? Let her go. ‘Tasha wouldn’t actually hurt me.” He hoped that was the right thing to say. No one had ever protected him before. He had no idea how to handle the large, very threatening, man who seemed intent on doing so now. He breathed a sigh of relief when metal fingers slowly uncurled, one by one. To her credit Natasha didn’t snatch her arm away, just slowly lowered it to rub the soreness out of her wrist.

 

“We’d come to see if you wanted to join the rest of us for movie night.” Natasha said, as though nothing out of the ordinary had just happened.

 

“Depends on what we’re watching. I can’t take another cheesy ‘70’s horror flick ‘Tasha.” Clint teased, trying to lighten the mood. Bucky still looked half ready to pounce and poor Steve was visibly torn between the desire to help his friend and the need to defend his omega.

 

“Night of 1000 Cats is a piece of cinematic mastery, show some respect, Barton.” Natasha threw out flippantly. Clint just rolled his eyes. “But you’re in luck. I’ve decided that it is high time Steve be introduced to the official tower pastime.”

 

“Angry Science Bros?” If you put on a movie with enough flawed science Tony and Bruce damn near imploded. Natasha nodded. “What movie?”

 

“Lost Skeleton of Cadavra.” She managed to say with a straight face. Clint’s eyes widened. That movie was atrocious. He wasn’t sure it wasn’t some kind of human rights violation. It was utterly perfect.

 

“20 bucks says Bruce leaves half way through.” Clint hunted around for his remote to turn off the movie still playing in the background. On impulse he grabbed Bucky’s wrist. “Come on, you don’t want to miss this.”

 

Bucky hesitated. “I do not believe I should.” He made no move to pull his arm back.

 

“Don’t think you’d be welcome or don’t want to go?” If he didn’t want to go then Clint wasn’t going to push it. If he wanted to but was worried how others would react to his presence then Clint would drag him to the common living room and offer to shoot anyone who objected.  

 

“I doubt I would be welcome.” His stilted, too perfect phrasing was back. That was bad. Clint shot a look at Steve. Thankfully the big blonde got the hint.

 

“Of course you’ll be welcome if you want to go Buck! It’ll just be us three with Stark and Banner. If it is too much for you then you can leave at any time.” Steve flashed a genuine smile, clearly hoping his friend would agree.

 

Bucky thought for a moment. He looked at Clint and then nodded. “I will go, provided Agent Barton is not sick of me for today.” He shot a hopeful grin at the smaller blonde.

 

“Nah, not yet big guy.” Clint flashed back his own crooked smirk, forcing down the twist in his gut brought on by Bucky’s smile. He caught Natasha’s eye as she pointedly glanced from him to the brunette, to where he still held the other man’s wrist. He let go as if he’d been stung. He was going to be hearing about that later he was sure of it.

 

He managed to usher everyone out and toward the common room. Hopefully he could convince Natasha that what she’d seen was nothing. Otherwise the red head was going to get the wrong idea. There was nothing between him and Bucky. There couldn’t be. Even if he admitted to being attracted to the larger man that didn’t mean anything. What he’d done was unforgivable. He was the last alpha on earth any omega would or should want; let alone Bucky.

 

All the logic in the world didn’t mean shit when halfway down the hall he felt Bucky slip his flesh and blood hand into his.

 

~*~

 

“What the actual fuck?! No. No, I’m out. I cannot watch any more of this, this ARGH!” It wasn’t often that Bruce swore, it was mostly out of frustration rather than anger. And nothing frustrated him more than the movies Natasha and Clint would pick out to watch.

 

“No! Babe, don’t leave me alone with these people!” Tony cried out, unable to tear his eyes away from the train wreck that was on the screen. Natasha quietly slipped Clint a $20 bill as Bruce abandoned his alpha to his fate.

 

Steve just stared at the screen in mild confusion. “Wasn’t she just a cat?”

 

“Panther actually.” Natasha supplied.

 

“And now she’s…?”

 

“A person.” Clint shoved another handful of popcorn into his mouth to keep from laughing. “Because she got hit with a ray gun.” He slurred out around his snack.

 

“WHICH ISN’T SCIENTIFICALLY POSSIBLE!” Bruce yelled from the other room.

 

“Pretend its magic!” Clint called back. Bruce declined to answer. Clint glanced over at the man beside him who’d pressed himself into the very corner of the couch. Bucky seemed like he was doing alright. He hadn’t run off yet, but he hadn’t relaxed either. Clint nudged him with an elbow and offered him the bag of popcorn. Bucky looked at it, then back as Clint, like he wasn’t sure he was allowed to have any. Clint just shook the bag slightly and grinned when Bucky took a handful.

 

Somewhere between Tony yelling at the screen about the teleporting ‘my first science kit’ and Bruce coming back in with real food, Bucky had relaxed enough that his thigh pressed against Clint’s. He knew ‘Tasha saw it, but for the first time since coming back from Iowa, Clint couldn’t bring himself to care.

 

~*~

 

_“You have heart.” A tap to his chest followed by a spreading blue fog. A probing presence in his brain sought out everything, all of his secrets, all of his fears, all of the worst of himself and paraded them before his eyes. The other-in-his-head paused at an image of his mother’s battered face._

_“Is this why you try to defend the helpless?” The voice in his head whispered mockingly. “To protect her? Too little too late, my Hawk. She died because of you; because you were too weak to save her. You’ve never been enough and you’ll never be enough, Barton.”_

Clint wrenched himself awake. He rubbed his eyes and looked over at his clock. 5:00am glowed green in his otherwise dark room. He dropped his head back onto his pillow, mildly surprised he’d slept in.

 

He debated going down to the range while he put in his aides before deciding against it. He padded his way to his kitchen in nothing but his boxers. He was alone in his suite; he could sit in his underwear and have beer for breakfast if he wanted to. He pulled open his fridge, searching for the cans he’d placed there the day before. The shelf where they should have been was mockingly empty.

 

“Looking for these?” He slammed the door closed and spun around. Natasha was sitting on his counter, one hand hovering over his missing beer.

 

“’Tasha, don’t.” Clint growled. He stalked over to grab a can and was stopped by one dainty foot hitting the center of his chest.

 

“Oh no, Barton. This is happening and it’s happening now.” She hopped off the counter “I have seen a lot of terrible things in my life, I’ve done several. But I utterly refuse to sit here and watch you drink yourself into you father.” She glided over to the table, motioning for Clint to sit down.

 

He glared at her and remained standing. He walked over and the abandoned cans and took one. It was suspiciously light. She’d poured it out. He quickly looked at the rest, they were all open. She’d dumped every last one.

 

“Natasha. It’s five in the morning; we don’t need to do this.” He sighed. It’d been hard enough sneaking these few in. It was going to be even more difficult now. Maybe he could bribe Tony.

 

“Yes. We do.” Her tone was clipped. “We do this now, just us, or we do this later and I pull in the rest of the team. Your choice Clint.” He stomped over and sat. At least this way he wouldn’t have to deal with Cap’s disappointed face or Banner’s pity again. She stared him down.

 

“You’re better than this. I know it and you know it.” She began.

 

“Obviously I’m not if we’re having this chat.” He sounded petulant and he knew it. He couldn’t bring himself to care.  She gave him a cold look.

 

“Self-esteem issues aside, you cannot go down this road Clint.”

 

“Let me guess why, I’m hurting myself and those I care about? I’ll lose my place on this team? What other catch phrases do you want to throw at me ‘Tasha? I can guarantee at least three shrinks have tried ‘em before.”

 

“Because if you keep doing this then Steve and I will make sure Barnes suddenly has a very full schedule.” Her voice had dropped.

 

“That supposed to be a threat? ‘Behave or we’ll keep away the guy we threw you at?’” Clint tossed out with a sarcastic laugh.

 

“No Clint. Behave or we will take away the omega that shows all the signs of imprinting from you. We take him before he gets his heart set on you and utterly shatters when you drink yourself to death. Behave or I will take Bucky from you so he _never_ has to go through what I did when I lost Phil. He has undergone enough torture in his life. I won’t let him go through the loss of a bond mate.” Natasha leaned across the table and fixed Clint with a hard stare

 

 “So you tell me right now Clint Barton, what do you want more?”


	8. Chapter 8

He didn’t want Barnes. Did he? The man was attractive, Clint would give him that. He was intoxicating in a way no other omega had ever been. Clint was quickly finding that making the brunette smile was one of his favorite things. There was something beautiful in the way his whole body lit up when he relaxed and just _smiled._

 

Bucky was broken. He didn’t deny that. That man lived with more monsters than Clint himself. At least Clint knew his memories were his own and not planted there. Bucky didn’t even have that. But he was trying. Clint saw it in the way the omega spoke to Steve, saw it in the way he didn’t let being afraid for himself stop him. His hesitation was always caused by fear that he would harm someone else without meaning to. Clint could respect that.

 

But Clint was broken too; in ways that could only hurt the omega. Hs only example of a steady relationship involved the omega having all life and spirit literally beaten out of them at the whim of the alpha. He didn’t want that for Bucky. He didn’t want to ever look at the larger man and see him cringe at what Clint had become. He never wanted to worry that Bucky was with him because he felt he had to be, not because he wanted to be.

 

He didn’t deserve him; whether or not he wanted him didn’t factor in. Clint didn’t deserve an omega that had been through hell and come out swinging. He didn’t deserve a man who had literally given everything he had for what he felt was right. He didn’t deserve so much as forgiveness for what he’d already done, let alone a chance to prove he was better than that. He didn’t deserve Bucky.

 

It would be better for everyone involved if he told Natasha he chose alcohol. He opened his mouth to say it. But the words wouldn’t come. He couldn’t look her in the eye and give up the other sniper. As much as he wanted to he couldn’t. He could see it in her eyes that she knew what he was thinking. She always did. She also had the decency not to say it. She simply got up, kissed his cheek, and slid out of his suite, as silently as she had come in.

 

~*~

 

Clint opened his door to head down to the archery range. He’d finally talked Tony into setting up moving, holographic, targets. At least he’d get a bit of a challenge when he couldn’t sleep. He’d made it almost as far as the elevator when something caught his eye. The air vent cover in his hallway was crooked. As silently as he could Clint returned to his room. All the vents were connected. He could enter through the one above his kitchen counter and if he was quiet then whatever was up there wouldn’t even notice him.

 

He set his bow case down and crept up onto his counter. He unlatched the vent cover and eased his way inside. He could have jumped and hauled himself in, but his goal was stealth rather than speed. Air ducts were already noisy places; he didn’t need the added sound of his boots making contact with the metal.

 

Thankfully he didn’t have any bends between his entrance and where the interloper had taken up residence, though he did make a mental note to talk to Stark about some kind of privacy screen. He didn’t like that anyone could hop into the air duct and spy on his kitchen. He looked down the dark passage, trying to see who was spying on him. Small amounts of ambient light from his suite glinted off metal; jointed metal. A fist pressed against its owner’s forehead.

 

“Bucky?” Clint whispered, trying not to spook the assassin in a confined space. “If you’d knocked I’d have let you in big guy. No need to break in, that’s ‘Tasha’s gig.” Bucky’s head whipped around to look at Clint. There was only about two feet of space between them. He shook his head.

 

“Not breaking in. I needed some place to hide. Some place safe. Jarvis doesn’t monitor air ducts; I learned that as soon as I was allowed to move around in here.” His voice sounded odd to Clint, faster. He took a closer look and saw that Bucky was shaking like a leaf. He had his legs curled up against his chest in a clear attempt to steady himself.

 

“So what are we hiding from?” Clint made himself comfortable. Bucky shot him a look.

 

“I’m hiding from the damn doctor Rogers brought in. Apparently they want to figure out how Hydra made me omega and what all that means.” He paused and inhaled sharply. “I know what that fucking means. It means I go back in the chair so the doc can poke and prod and take me apart to see what makes me tick so he can make me tick his tune. I’m not doing that again, Clint.”

 

“Well. God knows I won’t make ya. You should ask ‘Tasha how often I’ve had her spring me from medical.” Clint said lightly. He needed to get Bucky out of his air vent before someone figured out where the brunette was and tried to force him out.

 

“It isn’t the same.” Bucky snarled at him. “You haven’t had doctors ripping your brain apart; destroying everything _everything_ that you knew was true. You haven’t had to be a puppet for some punk in a lab coat.”

 

“No. I haven’t. I’m not going to pretend I get that part of it. I avoid doctors because they insist I need things that I know damn well I don’t. As for being a puppet…” Clint leaned his head back. “How much do you know about the battle of New York?”

 

“I was in cryo.  I know only what my handlers deemed vital before sending me after Fury. I know that it happened; I know that S.H.I.E.L.D was involved. Steve told me it was some kind of alien attack that almost leveled New York, and that the Avengers were instrumental to victory. That is all.” Bucky looked at Clint suspiciously, trying to see where he was going with this.

 

“There is a long talk we need to have big guy. There’s a lot Steve left out. Particularly about how the invasion started.” He shot the brunette a rueful grin. “It’s a long talk. I’m not having it in an airshaft. Come on through, if Steve comes by with any doctors I’ll stuff you under the bed and say I haven’t seen you.” He started to slide himself out, keeping a careful eye to make sure Bucky followed.

 

When both were out Clint put the vent cover back and started a pot of coffee. He didn’t want to do this. His hands were shaking as he poured the grinds into the filter; he almost dumped them all over the counter by mistake. He managed somehow. He could feel Bucky watching him expectantly. He let the pot fill up, poured two mugs, and put milk in Bucky’s before he’d sit down.

 

“A couple of years ago S.H.I.E.L.D. started working on what they claimed was a sustainable energy project. I’d just been cleared to resume active duty instead of sitting behind a desk; but Coulson, my handler, didn’t think I was ready for a physically demanding mission. I got put on guard duty for the energy project.” Clint turned his mug in circles. He hated this. He’d been sent to more mandated shrinks from this incident than he cared to remember. But this was important. He needed Bucky to know he wasn’t alone, he couldn’t explain why the need was there; only that it was.

 

“It was supposed to be an easy assignment, babysit a couple of geniuses until they solved the energy crisis then move on.” He risked a glance at the brunette’s face. Bucky remained suspicious as he took a sip of his drink. Clint sighed and continued. “Next thing any of us know a damn portal opened and a god stepped out.” Bucky looked at him, incredulous. “Yeah, I know. I wouldn’t believe me either. But I was there, you were what stuck as what Stark has been referring to as ‘CommiePop’, you’ll just have to trust me.” Bucky snorted into his coffee and gestured for Clint to continue.

 

“Anyway, Loki had this spear, scepter, glow stick of doom thing.”

 

“Glow stick of doom?” Bucky repeated, half laughing.

 

“Shut up Barnes. As I was saying, this thing gave him the ability to kill you or take over your mind. He could tell you to do anything he wanted, and you’d do it because it sounded so reasonable. You’d do it because you couldn’t imagine doing anything else.

 

“I killed coworkers, friends, people who were the closest thing to family I had. I got my handler, Natasha’s bondmate, killed. I attacked Natasha. All because this voice in my head whispered how much better it was not to have to make choices.” Clint drank his coffee, trying to hide the tremble in his fingers. “So no Barnes, I have no idea what it’s like to have a doctor rip my brain apart. But I know what it’s like to have everything that I knew was true ripped out so I could be someone’s puppet.” Clint leaned in closer. “I swear to you, I will not let anyone do something like that to you again.”

 

Bucky opened his mouth to respond, and was cut off by a knock at the door. His jaw closed with a click and he looked around frantically.

 

“Straight past the kitchen, second door on the left.” Clint stood and pointed which way to go. “I don’t know that you’ll actually fit under the bed, you may need to hide in the closet. Sorry about the gym sock smell.” He gave the panicking man what he hoped was a reassuring smile and rested a hand on his shoulder. “Whether you stay here or go there, you’re safe Barnes. Nothing will ever happen in this suite you don’t agree to.” Clint squeezed Bucky’s shoulder; then went to answer the door.

 

Steve was too polite to push past Clint into his own apartment, but it was a near thing. “Clint, have you seen Bucky? The hormone doctor is here and needs to examine him.”

 

Clint didn’t dare turn around to see if Bucky had gone to hide or if he was still sitting at the table. “If I had seen him, I’m not sure I would tell you Cap.” He leaned in the doorway, not letting Steve pass.

 

“Barton, we need to know what Hydra did to him. That’s all we’re trying to figure out. Nat thinks they did something similar to what was done to her, but without doing bloodwork and a physical exam the doc can’t tell us for sure.” Steve looked down at Clint, not forcing his way past the other alpha, but making it quite clear he could if needed. The smaller man didn’t budge.

 

“Rogers, if Bucky were in here, I’m not saying he is and I’m not saying he’s not, I wouldn’t let you and that doctor through this door. I promised him that nothing would happen in my space that he didn’t want. If he’s hiding then it seems to me he doesn’t want that doc doing anything to him.”  Clint shrugged; it really was as simple as that.

 

“I just want what’s best for him. And right now that’s figuring out if he’s a true omega or just got messed up somehow.” Steve was getting frustrated with Clint’s lack of cooperation.

 

“How about we let him decide what’s best for him?”

 

Steve screwed his eyes shut and pinched the bridge of his nose. “You think I want to do this to him? You think I _want_ to force my best friend back into an exam room? No, Barton, I don’t. But we need to know, and soon, if Bucky is or is not capable of everything an omega normally is.”

 

The penny dropped.

 

“You’re trying to figure out if I got him pregnant when he was heated.” Clint said slowly. He hadn’t even considered that. On top of everything else he’d done to Bucky, now he may have to decide what to do with a kid. He wanted to go get Bucky, wanted to have him take the blood test to see if he was or could even get pregnant. He rubbed his hand over his face

 

“We can’t force him, Cap. Guy’s gone through enough.” He finally managed, the idea of a tiny blonde version of Barnes still running in his head. “If he is, well we’ll let him decide what to do about it.” He’d made a promise; he wasn’t going back on it.

 

He pushed off the door frame and started to close the door. Steve was protesting but Clint wasn’t going to listen. A metal hand shot out from behind him and caught the door before Clint got it closed.

 

“I’ll do it.” Bucky said softly. “But I’ll do it here. You’re not taking me into an exam room.”

 

~*~

 

In 20 minutes Clint’s living room had become almost unrecognizable. The couch had been shoved off to the side to create room for a massive cooler. His table held a computer and printer, along with a biohazard case containing sharps. A chair from his kitchen had been put in the middle of the floor to replace the standard exam table, which Bucky flatly refused to consider.

 

“Sargent, this really would be better in a sterile environment.” The doctor scolded. He was not happy when Steve had informed him of where the exam would take place.

 

“You callin’ me a slob, doc?” Clint shot back, leaning on the wall by the door. Bucky had insisted he stay in the room. He trusted Clint to keep him safe, though for the life of him Clint couldn’t understand why. Even Steve had been kicked out. He watched the other man sitting stiffly on the kitchen chair.

 

“I’m simply worried that this space will contaminate the results.” The doctor sniffed.

 

“Guess you’ll need to be extra careful then, won’t you?” Bucky bit out. “Get this over with doc.”

 

To his credit the doctor was quick when he stopped griping and started working. The physical exam went quickly and easily. The trouble came when it was time to draw Bucky’s blood. As soon as he felt the needle slip into his arm Bucky began to panic. He knocked the doctor away and wrenched the syringe out in the time it took for Clint to start to move. Thankfully the small alpha managed to get between Bucky and the doctor before the brunette stabbed down with the needle.

 

“Bucky! Stop!” Clint yelled, trying to grab the needle without getting stabbed himself. “You’re safe! You’re in my damn living room!” He had never been more thankful for his circus training than he was right in that moment. He doubted he would have been able to survive if he hadn’t learned how to tumble without injuring himself. As it was he was grateful he managed to keep Bucky from breaking anything.

 

Bucky finally calmed back down enough to sit. He was still breathing heavily and had a panicked look in his eye.

 

“Bucky? Do you want to try again? The doctor needs the blood to run tests on, but if you say no then this is done.” Clint panted. Honestly the doctor looked traumatized and Clint was pretty sure he looked pretty done in himself. If Bucky decided he was done there would be no way either of them could make him.

 

Bucky looked at Clint; then nodded. “Hold me down.”

 

“What?” Clint shot him an incredulous look. “I don’t know if you noticed big guy, but I’m not exactly winning an arm wrestling competition against you, if you catch my drift.”

 

Bucky shook his head. “I need the distraction Clint. I need to focus on something other than the needle.” He reached his metal arm out to Clint. “Please.”

 

What else could he do? He walked over and straddled the larger man on the chair. He felt the solid bulk of Bucky’s left arm snake around his waist. He rested his forehead against the other man’s and gestured for the doctor to get it over with. This time Bucky’s eye flying open and staring into Clint’s own was the only sign the needle had made contact.

 

“Thank you, Sargent. I’m done here. I’ll call with results in three or four days.” The doctor began packing the blood samples into the large cooler, shutting down his computer.

 

Clint helped him carry the medical paraphernalia out, in the interest of getting it out of his apartment faster. They were almost to the lobby when the doctor spoke.

 

“You do realize that if your omega’s test results return and he is sterile your bond can be broken, correct? I am not one of the doctors that will attempt to trick you into remaining with a bondmate that cannot carry children.”

 

“Sargent Barnes and I are not bondmates. He is not _my_ omega.” Clint was proud of himself for getting that out without decking the doctor. Where the hell had Steve even _found_ this asshole? The doctor just shot him a look of annoyed disbelief before walking out of the elevator.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beta'd by the amazing Bairnsidhe

He needed to get out of the tower. Bruce was starting to go into heat and he couldn’t deal with that right now. Had he been in a better head space he could have brushed it off like normal. But as it stood Bruce’s heat smell triggered memories of Bucky writhing under him, begging him for more of what he shouldn’t have been giving in the first place. He knew that there was a chance Bucky and Natasha could go into sympathetic heat given that Bruce was technically the mate of the highest ranking alpha, by virtue of Stark owning where they lived. He couldn’t be around if that happened. He just couldn’t. At least this time Natasha had Steve to take care of her, if he wasn’t already. If Bucky heated up, unlikely given how recent his last heat was, but not impossible, he’d been in the same situation as when Pepper shoved Clint through the damned door. He couldn’t risk doing that to the omega again.

 

The idea of leaving was incredibly tempting. But the idea of leaving and something happening to the brunette while he was gone turned his stomach sour. With him gone he had no idea who would get thrown at Bucky if he heated. Clint would never be able to live with himself if he left his omega and someone else attacked him. He shook himself. His omega? Where the hell had that come from? He’d pulled his suitcase out and put it back over and over, trying to decide what to do.

 

“Going on vacation, Clint?” Clint jumped at the sound of Bucky behind him unexpectedly.

 

“I could have sworn I locked my door, Barnes.” Clint didn’t turn, just bent and shoved the half packed suitcase back under the bed.

 

“You did. Natasha gave me a copy of the key.” There was something smug in the assassin’s tone. “She said you’d want me to have it.”

 

“Really now? Anything else ‘Tasha tell you?” He stood back up and looked at the taller man. Bucky’s eyes were wide and focused on where Clint has just been. The brunette shook himself slightly and met Clint’s eyes. Clint was damn sure he was imagining the tiny bit of color in Bucky’s cheeks.

 

“Oh! Natasha informed me you would be attempting to run. She gave me your key, said to use it if I wanted to convince you to stay.” He stepped closer, looming over Clint, making it difficult for the younger man to breathe.  “I’d like it if you stayed. I _want_ you to stay.” Clint’s knees hit the edge of his bed. Bucky’s voice was low and rumbling, setting Clint’s blood on fire.

 

“You shouldn’t be here Bucky.” Clint managed to get out. God damn he didn’t want to man to leave, but he wasn’t what Bucky deserved.

 

“I want to be here.” Buck stroked his metal hand down Clint’s face. He leaned close enough that Clint could feel his breath against his ear. “Do you want me to leave?” He whispered.

 

Clint’s eyes slipped closed. No. No he didn’t. It was taking all his self-control to stop himself from digging his fingers into the taller man’s hair and slanting their lips together. He wanted to roll the other man onto his bed and wring those amazing moans and cries from the brunette’s throat.

 

_“That’s right bitch, scream for me! This is all you’re fucking good for isn’t it?!”His mother was crying over the sounds of his father’s grunting._

He pushed Bucky back. “You have to leave Bucky. You’re not safe with me like this.” He slid out from between the omega and the bed. “It’s better for you if I leave.” He couldn’t meet Bucky’s eyes.

 

“You didn’t answer my question yastreb.” Bucky sat down on Clint’s bed and watched the smaller man reach back under it for the suitcase. “Do you _want_ me to leave?”

 

Clint tossed the bag on the bed next to Bucky without answering. He began throwing in balled up shirts without really paying attention to what was going in. He had to get out. Bruce’s heat was killing his self-control. Bucky deciding to be oddly affectionate wasn’t helping.

 

Bucky pushed the bag to the floor and grabbed Clint’s wrist. “Natasha warned me you would try to run. She wasn’t talking about running from Bruce, was she?” Clint couldn’t meet the other man’s eyes. “Look me in the eye, tell me you have no interest and I’ll never say another word about it.” His voice was pleading. Clint couldn’t turn. He couldn’t look; if he looked he wouldn’t be able to turn the man away. If he looked he’d ask the brunette to stay. The silence stretched painfully.

 

“Clint? Please. Do not turn me away unless you mean it.”

 

“I can’t do this. You deserve better than me. So yeah, I do mean it. Find someone who will treat you like you should be, Bucky.” He couldn’t turn. He focused on the wall ahead of him. He could keep his voice steady so long as he didn’t look. He gently pulled his wrist away.

 

“I have already.” Clint felt Bucky stand up. “I have already found the man I want for my alpha.” He grabbed Clint by the shoulders and spun him. “I want the man who found me in an air vent and convinced me to come down by telling me I was not alone. I want the man who was willing to face down the man who’s known me my entire life to keep me safe. I want the one who did not hesitate to throw himself on me while I was not myself. I want the man who kept me calm while there was a needle in my arm.” Bucky shook Clint slightly. “I want you.”

 

“Bucky, this is a terrible idea.” Clint shook his head.

 

“I will not give you up unless you can look me in the eye and say that I mean nothing to you.” His eyes drilled into Clint’s. “I will ask you one last time. Do you want me to leave?”

 

God help him he didn’t. Not with Bucky staring at him with a mix of pain and hope. But he couldn’t let him stay. If he did he would only end up destroying the brunette. The larger man still didn’t remember who he was, hell he still didn’t know if he was permanently an omega or if they’d be able to find a way to give him back his original orientation. He couldn’t let the man trap himself with a partner that would only hurt him. Clint pulled from all of his experience as an agent and forced himself to meet Bucky’s eyes.

 

“Yes Barnes. I want you to leave.”  He saw something shut down in Bucky. His hands dropped from Clint’s shoulders. Clint didn’t move until his aides caught the sound of the outermost door of his suite clicking closed.

 

He picked his suitcase up off the floor and finished packing; trying to ignore the stone that settled into his chest.

 

~*~

 

He checked into a hotel on Long Island, far enough away to avoid dealing with anyone from the Tower, but close enough to return if needed. He had no illusions of privacy. He knew that Jarvis, and by extension Stark, knew exactly where he was. But he had no choice but to trust that he’d keep Clint’s whereabouts to himself. He knew Natasha could find him if she wanted, but he hoped she’d understand why he’d run and let him be.

 

He clicked on the T.V. and pulled a beer out of his bag. He tried not to think of how upset Natasha would be if she could see him now. He cracked open the can and took a deep draw. She asked him to choose, and apparently he had.

 

~*~

 

_“Why the fuck do I even bother?”_

_“Baby, please, he’s trying.”_

_“Shut the hell up you useless bitch. If he were trying he wouldn’t be failing.”_

_“Please no, he’s just a baby.” Mama tried to step between him and daddy. It was the only time she ever did. It was the first time he remembered mama getting hurt so bad daddy had to take her to the doctor._

_It was his fault. If mama hadn’t tried to protect him then daddy wouldn’t have had to hurt her. It was always his or Barney’s fault. If they weren’t failures daddy wouldn’t drink and if daddy didn’t drink he wouldn’t hurt mama._

_~_

_Natasha was bleeding. She’d gotten shot while he was distracted. He’d taken his eye off her for 5 seconds to check the time to see how long they had before reaching the rendezvous point. That was all it took for him to hear her grunt over the crackle of the radio confirming she’d been hit._

_~_

_Loki whispered in his brain, giving him orders he didn’t even try to disobey. Natasha snapped him out of it, brought him back to his own head. But not before Loki took her alpha. It was his fault, if he’d been stronger, better, if he hadn’t failed, Loki wouldn’t have been able to kill Coulson._

_~_

_People he loved always got hurt because of him. It was always his fault._

He snapped his eyes open in the dark room. The floor was a wasteland of empty beer cans and clothing. Headlights outside caused the long hotel blinds to throw moving shadows across the neutral walls. When he was sure he was alone he let his eyes fall closed. No one was there to see if a couple tears slid slow paths from his eyes.

 

It was always his fault.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yastreb - 'Hawk' in Russian using the Latin/English alphabet. If this is wrong please send me corrections!


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beta'd by Bairnsidhe

Clint spent the next week alternating between watching bad TV in his hotel room, and drinking bad beer in a close and over-priced bar. Some part of him recognized that Bruce’s heat would be over by now, and he could return to the Tower. He was generally able to drown that part. If he went back to the Tower he’d have to deal with Natasha’s angry eyebrow, Steve’s disappointed Cap face, and Stark and Banner being disgustingly cute. If he went back to the Tower he’d have to see Bucky.

 

No matter how much he drank, or how many shitty reruns he watched, he couldn’t stop replaying the moment he left. He’d done the right thing, he was positive he had. Bucky was imprinting on him. He had no choice but to leave. If he’d stayed he would have broken the already damaged man. He needed to leave to give Bucky a chance to find someone else, someone better. Someone who would never look him in the eye and tell him he wasn’t wanted, no matter how big of a lie that was.

 

Clint took a deep swig of whatever the bartender had handed him, he wasn’t even give a shit what he was drinking anymore, so long as it was plentiful and alcoholic.

 

“You know, the alcoholic barfly look is mine. Or it would be if I didn’t own my own bar.” Clint screwed his eyes shut.

 

“Go away, Stark.” He was in no mood to deal with the man.

 

“No dice Legolas.” He slid onto the stool next to Clint. He signaled for a drink. “You look like shit by the way.”

 

“Gee, thanks.” Clint started looking at the exits, mentally calculating how long it would take to get to each one.

 

“No really, half-resurrected zombie just isn’t a good look for you.” Stark took a swig of his drink and made a face. “They call this a long island ice tea? I’m on long island, I expect better.”

 

“What do you want Stark?” He had just wanted to drink in peace. The sooner he could get the genius to leave, the sooner he could go back to getting pleasantly hammered.

 

“You know, when I met Brucie-bear I was a raging drunk. It’s true! Pepper had been after me for years to cut back, but I never saw the point, you know?” Tony ignored the question. “Drinking’s fun, I’ve got enough cash to pay for any health problems I get from it, so why stop?” He shrugged.

 

“You goin’ somewhere with this Stark?”

 

“Patience birdbrain. Anyway, after New York drinking helped me forget. If I didn’t remember then I couldn’t freak out about stupid shit. Made perfect sense.” He took another swig of the subpar drink. “Seriously, Barton? You couldn’t choose a place that makes decent mixed drinks?”

 

“Beer’s cheaper here. You gettin’ to your point anytime soon?” Clint could make the front door in about 10 seconds if he booked it, side door in 15.

 

“Fine, long story short I stopped, ok cut back on, drinking when I saw how much it was killing Bruce. He wasn’t even my omega yet. He just got this look every time he saw a drink in my hand and I got sick of seeing it.”

 

“Cool story bro.” Clint slurred out sarcastically. “Glad we had this talk. We done now?”

 

“Hey! I’m trying to have a heart to heart here; team building, friendship is magic and all that! I am feeling very unappreciated right now.” Tony looked at the smaller blonde with mock hurt. Clint just shot back an unimpressed look.

 

“Stark, you didn’t come all the way to Long Island to tell me a story about Bruce getting you to quit drinking. Why are you really here?”

 

For the longest time Stark didn’t answer. When he did his characteristic joking tone was gone. “In all seriousness Barton? Everyone is worried about you. I don’t know what Rogers had to do to keep Red from hunting you down when you disappeared, I do know she wasn’t happy about it. I caught her trying to snag your location from Jarvis, but he was under firm orders not to tell her. She was so angry we’d figured if she found you then we’d only get back pieces.”

 

Clint shrugged. “Probably.”

 

“There’s been a lot of Russian curse words coming from my air ducts lately, it’s very distracting.” Stark added.

 

“So you came to find me so ‘Tasha would stop cursing you in Russian?” Clint resisted the urge to ask about Bucky. The brunette was always on his mind, but it wasn’t his place to ask.

 

“I never said it was Red doing the cursing.” Clint nearly choked on his drink. Stark patted him on the back lightly before continuing. “Barnes has built an impressive nest in the air duct leading to your suite. Sometimes Romanov goes up there and he’ll talk to her, otherwise he just stays there by himself.”

 

“I can’t go back Stark. He deserves better than what I can give him.” Clint signaled for another drink.

 

“Damn straight he does! But for some reason he wants you. And judging by your…” Stark looked Clint up and down “Zombie chic look, you’re just as miserable without him.” Clint just glared at him.

 

“He deserves someone who won’t hurt him.”

 

“I’m hearing a lot of what he _deserves_ and nothing about what he _wants._ Let me tell you something I wish someone had thought to tell me when I was caught up in Bruce deserving better: your omega is always going to deserve better than you. Your job is to do your damn best to get as fucking close to what they deserve as you can. So long as you do that? You’re golden.” Stark grabbed the tab before Clint could even see it.

 

~*~

 

Clint still wasn’t sure how he’d ended up back in the Tower. Somewhere between Stark paying his tab and trying to head back to his hotel he called a cab. His stuff was still in the hotel room, but he was too drunk to give a shit. There was nothing there he really cared about anyway. Without remembering the trip he found himself standing in front of the air vent connected to his rooms, staring at the askew cover and trying to work up the courage to pull it off.

 

Visions of everything that could go wrong spun through his brain. Every reason why this was a bad idea paraded to the forefront of his thoughts. Every voice that had ever told him he was worthless and a failure and not enough screamed at him at once.

 

He passed up entering through the exterior vent. Instead he bought himself a few more moments by entering his suite first. He took a steadying breath to shut the voices up, climbed up onto the counter and pulled off the vent cover.

 

Bucky was asleep in the cramped space, curled up with one of Clint’s shirts. As quietly as he could Clint climbed up into the vent with the other man. The brunette looked heartbreakingly beautiful in his sleep. Clint just sat for a few minutes and watched the gentle rise and fall of Bucky’s breath. He didn’t want to wake the other man, but the way he was crunched up to fit into the air duct couldn’t be comfortable. Clint’s heart clenched when he realized that Barnes had probably slept like this for the last week.

 

“Bucky?” Clint said softly. “Come on big guy; let’s get you out of here.” He knew better than to reach out and touch the other man before he woke up, but he was incredibly tempted to stroke the brunette’s hair.

 

“Go ‘way Steve.” Bucky mumbled. “Not comin’ out.” He buried his face further into Clint’s stolen shirt. Clint couldn’t help smiling a little; the other man was utterly adorable.

 

“I’m not Steve, and frankly I’m offended that you can’t tell us apart big guy.” Clint teased lightly. Bucky raised his head slightly and looked before closing his eyes and laying his head back down.

 

“You’re not really here. I’m dreamin’ again and I’m not wakin’ up to bein’ alone. Not again.” Bucky’s voice was muffled around the shirt. Clint figured the assassin was awake enough not to kill him out of reflex and reached out to stroke Bucky’s hair.

 

“We can debate whether or not I’m really here in the morning. For tonight though? My back won’t forgive me if I sleep in an airshaft again. How about you hop out, spend the night in a real bed, and we’ll talk tomorrow?” Clint coaxed. He really, really didn’t want to spend the night in an airshaft while half drunk. Bucky didn’t respond right away. But just as Clint was going to give up and settle in for an uncomfortable night, the other man nodded and followed him into his suite.

 

Clint led Bucky into his bedroom. He’d let the larger man take the bed, he’d go and take the couch in the living room once Bucky was settled. The brunette was too tired to object when Clint tugged off his dusty tee shirt and jeans, leaving him only in his boxers, and guided him into the bed. Clint smoothed the covers over Bucky and brushed the hair out of the other man’s eyes before getting up to leave. A flesh and blood hand shot out and caught his wrist.

 

“Stay.”

 

“I’m only going as far as the couch Bucky. I’ll be here when you wake up, I promise.”

 

“Please. Just stay.”

 

Clint nodded, took out his aides and climbed into the bed. He was swept up and cradled by the larger man. Clint could feel Bucky pressing his face into the crook of his neck, clinging to him in desperation. Clint had never been much of a cuddler, but somehow being wrapped up in Bucky just felt comfortable and right. He could feel the larger man’s breath against the back of his ear.

 

Then he heard it. Without his aides in he almost missed it, as it was he had to strain to catch it.

 

“Please. Please be real.”

 

And Clint’s heart broke.


	11. Chapter 11

Clint woke to the sun streaking through the gap in the curtains. It was the latest he’d slept in months, and the first time he could remember sleeping without nightmares in even longer. He was warm and comfortable and decidedly not alone. It took a moment for his brain to catch up and remember how he’d fallen asleep the night before. He could feel Bucky’s arm wrapped around his waist. He couldn’t tell if the larger man was awake yet or still catching up on lost sleep. Either way Clint didn’t want to move; this would be over all too soon as it was.

 

He couldn’t do this. As much as Bucky appeared to be hooked on him, he’d be a horrible alpha and he knew it. His problem resolution tactics amounted to ‘run and hope it goes away’ or ‘shoot it until dead’. Neither of those options was viable for a relationship. Let alone a relationship with an omega recovering from a lifetime of trauma. Regardless of what the others had been pushing for this wouldn’t work. And Clint wasn’t about to push Barnes through the wringer, again, just to show everyone how bad of an idea this was. It would hurt like hell in the short run, but the brunette would ultimately be better off for it. Knowing it was the right decision didn’t make Clint any happier about having to do it.

 

Bucky’s arm tightened around Clint’s waist. His nose buried itself in the blonde’s neck and Clint felt him inhale.

 

“You smell amazing my yastreb.” Bucky whispered.

 

“Bucky…” Clint tried to roll to face the larger brunette. A tightening arm stopped his movement.

 

“I know. Just let me have this Clint. Let me pretend for a little longer.” Bucky kissed Clint’s neck. Clint didn’t have much resistance to start with, and he wasn’t going to fight the attractive man in his bed. Even if it was going to make leaving harder later, he may as well give the man a good memory to draw on later.

 

He tapped Bucky’s arm, getting him to loosen his grip ever so slightly. He rolled quickly and pinned the larger man. “Are you sure about this?” Clint whispered; arms slightly stretched to hold down Bucky’s wrists with one hand while he straddled the larger man.

 

“I seem to remember someone telling me that nothing would happen to me in this apartment that I didn’t want.” Bucky rolled his hips, pressing up against Clint, letting the smaller man feel just how sure he actually was. Clint bit back a groan at the sensation of Bucky’s clothed cock grinding against his ass.

 

Clint gave up on holding back.

 

He grabbed a handful of the taller man’s hair and leaned down, savoring the taste of Bucky’s lips. He wasn’t sure what was more arousing, the small strangled moan from deep in Bucky’s throat or the way his hips jerked up reflexively. Clint’s tongue flicked out against Bucky’s mouth, the omega moaned and opened himself up for the smaller alpha’s exploration. Bucky tasted perfect. Clint wouldn’t have been able to describe the flavor if his life depended on it. The closest he could get was saying Bucky tasted like finally coming home.

 

~*~

 

Hours later, when their blood had cooled and the sweat had dried, Clint couldn’t bring himself to feel regret. He knew that he should explain to Bucky why he couldn’t stay with him. The brunette would understand; he had to see the same things Clint did. He had to understand why this would never work for long. Clint was too broken to be trusted with anyone nearly as precious as Bucky.

 

He stroked the hair out of the other man’s face. He needed to tell the other man why he couldn’t stay. But in that moment, with Bucky looking at him half asleep, he couldn’t do it. Clint was many things, but he’d never considered himself a coward. Right then he’d happily wear that insult for the rest of his life, if it meant Bucky kept looking at him like that for another few moments. Bucky gave him a sleepy grin, crooked and sad. He knew.

 

“You are going to tell me that you cannot be my alpha.” Bucky’s voice was soft, but his lack of contractions gave him away. He wasn’t happy, and was trying not to show it. “And then my job will be to tell you I understand, and let you go. I have seen this dance often enough to know the steps. I just never thought I would be on this side of the conversation.” He ran his metal fingers down the side of Clint’s face.

 

“Bucky, you don’t know why I can’t.” Clint needed to explain. He’d already run once without letting the omega know why Clint wasn’t good enough for him. He couldn’t leave again without the brunette knowing the reason. “Come on, this isn’t a conversation to have naked. Get dressed and I’ll make coffee.”

 

The look Bucky gave him could have frozen lava. “The reasons do not matter yastreb.” He winced. “Clint.” He corrected.

 

“They do matter, Bucky.” Clint swung himself out of bed and motioned for Bucky to do the same. “You asked for me to let you have this” he gestured over the bed “now let me have this.” He saw Bucky’s jaw clench, but the brunette nodded.

 

~*~

 

“I can’t be your alpha, Bucky. But you already know that.” Clint began. He turned the mug around in his hands. He couldn’t meet Bucky’s eyes. He knew the brunette was on the other side of the table, but he just kept staring at his mug. It was easier this way.

 

“I can’t be your alpha because I don’t deserve you. I’ll only keep hurting you. I can’t make you happy.”

 

“Clint, if all you are going to do is tell me how you do not deserve me then I will leave. I have heard enough of how you are not worth the air you breathe while you were gone.” Bucky interrupted.

 

“Bucky, just don’t. This is hard enough to say without being cut off, alright?” That came out sharper than intended. Clint took a deep breath to steady himself. “I’m sorry. Ok, look, what I’m about to tell you I’ve only actually told ‘Tasha. And that was because I was drunk.”

 

“The truth is I can’t be your alpha because I can’t be _anyone’s_ alpha. My mother was an omega.” He stopped turning the mug and gripped it tightly. “I loved her. She was everything for my brother and me.” He smiled fondly. “Mama always took care of us as best she could.”

 

“My father…” He paused. “My father was alpha. My father was also a massive dick. He drank too much, and when he drank he beat my mother.” His voice went hard. “She was his omega. She was his wife. He could do whatever he wanted to, whenever he wanted to, and she had no right to object. She tried; a couple of times. Mostly when my brother and I were on the line.” He shrugged. “Ultimately the bastard killed her. Killed her and I couldn’t stop him. I was too small, too weak, too _normal._ ” He spat out the last word.

 

“Then with Loki? He gave me a life without choice, brief as it was. Everyone thinks I had such a hard time with that because I had choice taken from me. But the truth is I had a harder time coming out that because I had to live with what I had done, knowing that it all happened because I was too weak to fight him off. What I couldn’t deal with wasn’t what he made me do, but because I was too _normal_ to stop him.” He had a white knuckled grip on his mug.

 

“I can’t be your alpha Bucky. I’m not enough. I can’t protect you like an alpha should. I’m broken and worthless. You’re the best friend of Captain fucking America, back from the dead; you deserve a hell of a lot better than an alcoholic ex-carnie. Who, may I remind you, fucking raped you while you were in heat.” He swallowed down the last of his coffee. Clint couldn’t bring himself to look at Bucky.

 

“Clint.” Bucky reached across the table. “You deserve better than a brainwashed ex-soviet assassin who never should have been an omega anyway.” His hand sat open in the middle of the table, waiting for Clint to take it. “I haven’t had a single free choice since the second world war. Hell, I didn’t have a single choice until the Helicarrier crash in D.C. when Steve insisted he knew me and I chose not to kill him. Every choice I have made, Every. Single. One, has had one clear correct answer, and one answer that would get me tortured or put back on ice.” His hand remained where it was, Clint hadn’t moved.

 

“I’ll hurt you Bucky. I can’t give you what you deserve to have.”

 

“God damn it yastreb! I choose you! With all of the risks you’ve been so determined to point out.” He made a fist and banged it on the table. “You drink? You lose your temper? Fine. You know what else you do? Do you?” He forced Clint’s chin up to meet his eyes. “You make me feel like I’m whole. You don’t make me feel like a punk because I can’t remember some party I dragged Steve to when we were kids in the ‘30s. You make me feel human, make me feel like it’s ok to feel some kind of guilt for what I did as Winter Solider, but don’t make me feel like a robot when I don’t.” Grey eyes dug right through Clint, begging him to understand.

 

“You feel like you cannot be my alpha because you would only hurt me? Because of what you’ve already done? Let me tell you what you’ve already done.” Clint kept trying to look away, but Bucky held his chin in a firm grip. “You brought me back to myself when my whole body was on fire that I couldn’t put out. Afterwards you never _once_ treated me like I’d deserved it, or that I was somehow lesser because I couldn’t control myself. You gave me a piece of solid ground, even when everyone could see looking at me ripped you to pieces. You put me first. You always put me first. You left because you thought it would help me, you came back when you were told it did not. Hell this whole conversation is happening because you are trying to put me first.”

 

“Bucky…” Clint tried to start. This wasn’t how this was supposed to go; the brunette was supposed to understand, to leave, to save himself before Clint hurt him again.

 

“No, Clint. You put me first. You give me everything you think I need; no matter how much it kills you. Whether you think you deserve to be or not, you are the man I consider my alpha. And I am damn proud to call you that. If you want me then I am yours, Clint Barton. Don’t run this time. Please.” Bucky let go of Clint’s chin and slid to the floor in front of him. He put his head in the smaller man’s lap in a gesture of submission.

 

“You’re making this harder Bucky. And it wasn’t easy to start with.” Clint looked down and couldn’t help but card his fingers through the other man’s long hair. He’d poured everything out to this man, and he was still here, laying himself literally at Clint’s feet.

 

“Then let me make this choice. Please. If you were throwing me out because you didn’t want me then I would leave without argument. But we both know that is not the case. You have explained your reasoning, I am making an informed choice and I still choose you. For once do what you _want_ to do Clint, not what you think you _have_ to for someone else’s sake.” Bucky’s hand found Clint’s, intertwining their fingers. “It’s pretty damn clear I want you. I spent a week in your air vent for Chrisstake.”

 

Clint snorted. “You are one crazy fucker, you know that?”

 

“Crazy about yoooou.” Bucky teased and batted his eyelashes. He knew he was winning, Clint could see it in his eyes.

 

“I’ll make a deal with you Bucky.” He started to stand and pulled the larger man to his feet. “We hold off any decisions until after you hear back from the doctor.” Bucky started to protest and Clint gestured him quiet. “ _If_ there is some way to give you back your original orientation then I want you to seriously consider it. You decide if you want to go back to being a beta or stay an omega. After that we’ll talk about what, if anything, we are. Ok?” Clint had to look up at the assassin.

 

“If I agree to this then you need to swear not to run until we know for sure.” Bucky stared the smaller man down.

 

“Fine. I won’t run if you promise to seriously consider what the doctor has to say.” He brushed back Bucky’s hair. “For now you need to go. Before ‘Tasha bursts in here and kills me.” He smiled.

 

With one last kiss Bucky turned and left.


	12. Chapter 12

“You can come out now ‘Tasha.” Clint called to his empty suite. He wasn’t stupid enough to think she wasn’t there. And if she really wasn’t? Well then only he and Jarvis would know he was paranoid on top of everything else. A soft thump behind him confirmed his suspicions.

 

“You really should trap your air ducts, Barton.” Amusement colored her tone.

 

“Yeah well, if I’d realized they were going to be the Denny’s of the Tower I would have.” Clint tossed out sarcastically as he poured her a cup of coffee.

 

“I am still incredibly angry with you Barton. I do hope you realize that.” She slid into the chair Bucky had left vacant. She accepted the mug and sipped at it, barely making a face at the taste. Clint plopped down across from her.

 

“This the ‘hurt him and I break your knees’ talk ‘Tasha? ‘Cause it’s a little late for that.”

 

“No. This is normally where I call you a damn coward and tell you to give me one good reason not to kill you. You run off for a week, then stroll back in like nothing happened and dangle Barnes on a string, and expect me not to be pissed? You know me better than that, Barton.” She pushed the mug away. “But, I did just hear everything that was said for last hour or so.”

 

He didn’t respond, just toyed with his own mug.

 

“I heard you tell him.” She leaned across the table and tilted up his chin. “You’re opening up and trying.” She gave him a bittersweet smile. “You’re an idiot, Clint. And so is he for wanting you. But, if I were going to kill you for being an idiot I’d have done it years ago.”

 

“Gee, thanks ‘Tasha. What the hell do I do? I’ve tried leaving; I’ve tried to tell him why this won’t work. Nothing’s working.” He picked up the mugs and went go wash them. He needed something to do with his hands. “I’ve known the guy what? Two weeks? Three?”

 

“But it feels a hell of a lot longer?” Natasha’s voice was mild.

 

“Yeah.” He started running the dishwater. “And he keeps looking at me to protect him, like I ever actually _could_ , or he’d ever actually _need_ me too.”

 

“But you want to.” She pulled herself onto the counter next to him and he didn’t have the heart to shove her off.

 

“I’m _trying_ to! I’m trying to protect him from ever having to look at his alpha and wonder what the hell happened. I’m trying to protect him from waking up one day and realizing he only wanted me because I’d been forced on him when he was vulnerable. I’m trying to protect him from being trapped, again.” He gripped the edge of the sink hard and lowered his head before finishing. “I’m trying to protect him from _me_ ‘Tasha.”

 

“Are you protecting him, Barton? Or are you protecting yourself and taking his choice away?” She put her hand on his shoulder lightly. “You don’t have to answer me, Clint. But you do need to know the answer.”

 

He gave her a one eyed glare. “You are being annoyingly on point ‘Tasha.”

 

“I respect you too much to be anything else, my hawk.” She kissed his temple.

 

“What do I do?” He knew he sounded pathetic and lost but the truth was he felt like it and he hated it. It shouldn’t be this hard to admit he wanted someone; it shouldn’t be this hard to try to let himself be happy.

 

“Right now? You put on a mindless movie, make us both popcorn, and spend _at least_ two hours thinking about something other than how you’re convinced you’re going to be the one who breaks a man who endured Soviet torture for 70 years. Because honestly, that’s a little egocentric, even for you, Barton.” She smiled at him fondly and hopped off the counter.

 

He just shook his head and followed.

 

~*~

 

It was nice to just sit with ‘Tasha. He hadn’t realized how much he’d actually missed her until she was sitting with him, throwing popcorn at actors she didn’t like with uncanny accuracy. He could just be himself, without worrying about who he was going to hurt in the process. Any time he started to get too serious she flicked a kernel at him and gave him The Eyebrow. It was generally enough.

 

Around dinnertime Steve came looking for his omega, trying to make sure she ate something. He wasn’t overly happy with Clint either, but a look from Natasha kept him from saying whatever it was he’d wanted to. Clint pretended not to notice and just called for pizza for the three of them. For as long as Natasha was happy with Cap Clint wasn’t going to pick a fight with the larger alpha. He had a feeling Steve was giving him the same courtesy and he was just fine with that.

 

~*~

 

Sleep didn’t come easy that night. He stared at his unchanging ceiling, too high up for the traffic on the street below to cause lights to dance. He couldn’t stop thinking. For once the voices in his head had shut up on their own, but that still left his own worries and doubts to contend with.

 

Why couldn’t he just let himself be happy? When ‘Tasha was beating herself up about moving on he’d driven her back to New York to give her a chance at being happy. Stark and Banner were disgustingly happy, and he knew they hadn’t started that way. He’d seen Stark fuck up over and over and still Banner loved the idiotic genius.

 

Natasha’d also had a point earlier. It was a stupid throw away comment, but did he really believe anything he could do was going to be worse than what Bucky had already endured? But by the same token didn’t thoughts like that prove he couldn’t be trusted? After all ‘I couldn’t possibly screw him up worse’ wasn’t exactly the healthiest mindset to have. But he could be happy, at least for a little while. It might actually work, Bucky was determined enough that Clint couldn’t really picture the brunette turning into the shell of a human being mama had been.

 

But could he risk the omega’s happiness on a gamble that Clint wouldn’t destroy him?

 

~*~

 

He’d given up on sleep. The range was blessedly empty as he fired shot after shot. This was simple, aim then shoot. No thought required, no consequences if he missed his mark. He could lose himself, lose time, and just revel in his skill until his arms turned to jelly and his back ached. This was his peace.

 

“Excuse the interruption, Agent Barton, but there is a Dr. Hmar on the line for you. Shall I put him through?” Jarvis paused the holographic targets to ask. Clint didn’t recognize the name, but grabbed a bottle of water and nodded anyway.

 

“Agent Barton, I’m calling with your omega’s test results.” Clint almost crushed the water bottle. The hormone doctor Steve found.

 

“Shouldn’t you be calling Sargent Barnes? Given that this is _his_ medical information and, as I told you before, we _aren’t bonded._ ” Clint bit out. He would have been perfectly happy to never have to deal with this man ever again.

 

“I’m not interested in whatever cover story you tell the press, Agent Barton. It is my job to recognize a bonded pair when I see one and to advise you of your options given your partner’s medical history.” Even over the phone the guy was a pompous ass.

 

“I’m pretty sure you don’t have a HIPPA release from Sargent Barnes.” If this guy didn’t hang up soon Clint was going to have Jarvis drop the call.

 

“Normally I would require one, however given Sargent Barnes’ mental state at the time of my visit it has been determined that he is unfit to make medical decisions on his own behalf. This is why I am contacting you as his apparent alpha.” The doctor spoke slowly and clearly, as though he were explaining the situation to a child.

 

Clint could feel a throbbing starting in his head; he rubbed his temples in frustration. “Fine, just spit it out. What are we looking at?” At least this way he could get the asshat off the line and not have to wait for him to decide to actually tell Bucky what was going on.

 

“Sargent Barnes is an anomaly.”

 

“We knew that, genius.” Clint couldn’t stop himself from saying.

 

The doctor sniffed audibly. “Agent Barton I told you before that I am not the kind of doctor to lie to you in order to trick you into staying with an infertile partner.”

 

“Which I’m sure would mean something if he and I were actually bonded.” Sarcasm dripped from every word.

 

“If I may continue?” The doctor bit out. “Thank you. As I was saying Sargent Barnes is an anomaly. The test results came back inconclusive. All we can tell at this point is that he is not currently impregnated, however the test results showed markers for both beta and omega hormone production. It is my professional opinion that the beta hormones suppress the production of omega hormones except when heat is triggered.”

 

“Which explains why his heat hit him so fast.” Clint cut in.

 

“Correct. As far as what that means for procreation, I am not sure. If he becomes pregnant during heat his beta hormone production could cause his body to reject the child, or his omega hormones could cause the pregnancy to stick. Either is possible.” The doctor’s voice was crisp. “I would need to complete further tests to be able to say with any certainty your omega would ever be able to bare children. In the absence of further testing I strongly suggest you consider a bond elsewhere, Agent Barton.”

 

“Annnd I strongly suggest you fuck right off. Jarvis?” The call disconnected. Clint finished his water and crushed the bottle. “Jarvis? Please tell me that was recorded.”

 

“All calls into and out of Stark Tower are recorded as a matter of course, Agent Barton,” replied the comforting voice of the AI.

 

“Great. Can you wake up Bucky and play that back for him? Make sure he’s alone please? He doesn’t need anyone else knowing unless he wants them too.” Clint pressed his closed fist against his forehead, trying to clear up the sudden headache dealing with the doctor had given him.

 

“Of course. Would you like me to ask him to meet you in your rooms afterwards?”

 

“No thanks Jarvis. I have a feeling he’ll do that anyway.” Clint put his bow in its case and tried to calculate how long he had before he needed to decide if the happiness of having Bucky was worth the risk of ruining him.


	13. Chapter 13

Clint normally avoided Stark’s labs. There was hardly any reason for him to go there, and even when there was the genius didn’t usually care for company. But Clint needed advice, and he sure as hell wasn’t going to Steve for it.

 

The lab Stark was in today had every available surface covered in unidentifiable bits and parts. “You know, Stark, most kids just take apart the toaster.” Clint called out.

 

“I’m insulted you think I’m most kids.” Stark came out from under one of the work benches. “Is there a reason you’re here birdbrain or should I just assume it’s Interrupt Tony Day?” He wiped his hands on a rag and looked at Clint.

 

“How did you do it?” Clint finally spit out.

 

“Well I started with a screw driver.” Stark gestured at the bits of metal on the work benches. “If you mean something else you’ll need to be more specific.”

 

“How do you and Banner work? How do you,” Clint gestured hopelessly, looking for the right word “trust yourself with him?” He felt like an idiot, standing there awkwardly in the other alpha’s personal space, but he had no idea where else to go.

 

“Ah, this talk. Ok Barton, here’s what we’re going to do. I am going to clean up, then you and I are going up to my office, I’m having Jarvis block both our calls, and we’re ordering in.” He tossed the rag down and started heading for the door. Clint had no choice but to follow.

 

~*~

 

Clint sat in Stark’s ludicrously large living room while the other man played with something behind the bar. He didn’t know where to start. Suddenly a rocks glass filled with amber liquid came into his field of view. He looked up, startled. He shouldn’t be drinking, but god he wanted to.

 

“Don’t get too excited Legolas, its apple juice.” Stark settled down on the chair across from him. “I’d rather not see who’d win in fight, me or Red, since I have a sneaking suspicion she doesn’t fight fair. So no booze for you.”

 

Clint sipped at it, glad to at least have something, even if it wasn’t alcohol. He tried not to fidget. He wasn’t even sure why he’d come anymore. Stark would understand, yes, but he’d also mock the hell out of him for showing any weakness. Clint opened his mouth to apologize for wasting the other man’s time and leave, when Stark started to speak.

 

“Alright, look.” Stark leaned forward. “I’m guessing that you’re convinced you’re not good enough for CommiePop. Am I right?” Clint nodded, barely managing to keep his jaw from dropping. “And you’re still convinced he’s a delicate glass flower who will shatter if you look at him wrong. Right?” Stark had set his glass down and was staring intently at Clint.

 

Clint hesitated. Bucky wasn’t delicate. Not by any stretch of the imagination. He was fragile in some ways, yes. But no one delicate would have survived what Bucky’d been through, let alone actually start trying to heal from it.

 

“Here, I’ll answer for you. Yes. Yes you are. Otherwise you wouldn’t have asked how I trust myself with Bruce. Fact of the matter is; I don’t.” Stark sat back and gestured for Clint to drink his juice. “But I trust _him_. I trust him enough to tell me if I hurt him. I trust him enough to talk to me if there’s a problem, and I trust him enough to leave if I won’t fix it.”

 

“But what if he doesn’t?” Clint couldn’t get past the picture of his mother’s bruised face, or the sound of his father’s fists.

 

“If he doesn’t? Then I’m still an abusive asshole and I hope someone cares about him enough to get him the fuck away from me. I know what you’re really asking, so just out with it already.” Stark said, slightly annoyed.

 

“How do you avoid becoming your father?” Clint twisted the empty glass around in his hands. Stark stared at him for a few minutes before answering.

 

“By worrying that I will.” 

**~*~**

Clint was starting to feel like his life was revolving around uncomfortable conversations at his kitchen table. But here he sat, with Bucky across from him clutching a coffee mug. He’d been right that Jarvis hadn’t needed to ask the brunette to meet him; Bucky had been waiting at his door by the time he got back from the penthouse. Neither had said a word in the time it took to brew a pot of coffee. It was getting ridiculous, but Clint had no idea what to say that hadn’t already been said.

 

“Look, I don’t give a shit about whether or not I can have kids.” Bucky broke the silence first. “Never really thought about having any in the first place. I guess I’d assumed I’d have some back in the ‘40’s. I mean it was just what happened right? I’d go to war, come back, marry a nice girl, have some kids and be dead by now. Then Hydra happened and I didn’t even know what my name was, let alone if I wanted to be a father. And now?” He just shrugged. “I guess I’m waiting to see if having kids matters to you.”

 

Clint held his cup in a white knuckled grip. “No. I can’t even take care of myself reliably. There is no way in hell I’d be anything resembling a decent dad.” He shook his head.

 

“Then I guess all that’s left is you telling me whether or not you want to give this a shot.” Bucky tried for a smile, but nerves made it look more like a grimace.

 

Clint took a deep breath, mouth opening and closing several times, trying to come up with his response. “I’m afraid I’ll hurt you.” He finally got out.

 

“Yeah, gathered that.” Bucky reached across and grabbed Clint’s hand with his flesh and blood one. “Clint, you’re going to hurt me. And I’m going to hurt you. You’re going to say or do something stupid and self-sacrificing. Again.” He smiled fondly at the blonde. “I’ll get upset about something I can’t remember and say things I’ll regret. I’ve been told that sort of shit comes with being human.” He ran his thumb across the back of Clint’s hand.

 

“I want you to be sure, Bucky.” Clint met the other man’s eyes. “I can’t guarantee that I’ll ever feel like I’m enough for you. I can’t promise that I’ll stop worrying that I am going to hurt you. Is this something you can live with?”

 

“Yes yastreb, if it means you’ll stop running. I’m tired of being left behind.” Bucky squeezed Clint’s hand reassuringly.

 

“Then yes, Bucky. I’ll give this a shot.” Clint finally got out and managed a nervous grin.

 

There was nothing nervous about the radiant smile Bucky gave him in return.

 

In that moment Clint didn’t give a rat’s ass if everything fell apart. As long as he could make Bucky smile like that? They’d be ok.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so it ends. 
> 
> Thank you, everyone who left kudos, everyone who commented, everyone who subscribed and read. I am utterly overwhelmed and speechless.
> 
> A deep, heartfelt, thank you to my beta Bairnsidhe, who did far more to get this posted than she realizes. 
> 
> Yes there will be an epilogue and sequel.


	14. Epilogue

“FINALLY!” Natasha couldn’t help yelling when Clint finally pulled his head out of his ass when it came to Bucky. She’d long since gotten sick of watching him mope around his room or try to drink himself to death. She loved him dearly but she’d been on the verge of strangling him just to end his pitiful existence. It would have been a mercy killing really.

 

This was much better. Maybe now her partner would finally let himself be happy. She glanced at Steve. After all, Barton had kept her sane when she lost her bondmate, and pushed her toward her new alpha. No one deserved happiness more, in her opinion. Watching Clint finally, actually, smile when he looked at Bucky, let her hope he’d finally found it.

 

Steve grabbed her hand and pulled her closer. He smelled comforting. Sometimes he managed to overwhelm the knot of scar where her left shoulder met her neck. It was all she had left of Phil; sometimes it still throbbed like it did when Phil was alive. Those were the hardest moments. Steve never pushed her, some days she appreciated that and some days she hated it. She leaned into him and rested her head on his shoulder, fingers entwined.

 

Jarvis’s voice filled the common room. “Pardon the interruption, however there is a call for Agent Romanov.”

 

She waved him off. “Not now Jarvis. Whatever it is can wait until Clint’s making an idiot of himself again. He’s being smart; this is rare enough for me to savor it.”

 

“Thanks ‘Tasha.” Clint flicked a little ball of paper at her. Steve deflected it and she stuck her tongue out in a moment of childish joy.

 

“I apologize, however the caller is quite insistent.” Jarvis sounded actually apologetic. If nothing else Tony had been fantastic at programing emotional tones into the AI.

 

“Then be insistent Jarvis.” Her shoulder throbbed; she sat up and rolled it to ease the ache. Steve gave her a concerned look and she shook her head slightly. He never touched her mark. He’d told her once that he never wanted to replace Phil, and she deeply appreciated that.

 

The elevator dinged. Clint looked before she could and was on his feet in an instant, Bucky not far behind. She slid to her feet. Something caught Steve’s eye and he grabbed her wrist. She couldn’t see, she needed to _see_. She pulled her arm out of his grip.

 

“Fuck.” Clint whispered. He turned and tried to keep her from getting past him. Something was wrong. “No, ‘Tasha don’t.” She shoved past him and looked in the elevator.

 

Her heart stopped.

 

“Phil?”

 


	15. World Building Notes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Posting this mostly to keep me honest and keep my universe internally consistent (consider this your invitation to call me out on things that don't match up). Also posting this to notify subscribers that the sequel is live, as requested.

**World History Notes:**

Each human being is born with a combination of two different attributes: biologically male or biologically female as well as the ability to produce Alpha, Beta, or Omega hormones/pheromones. Biologic females can become pregnant and produce children no matter their hormonal orientation and biologic males can impregnate biologic females and omega males.

Alpha females have more difficulty becoming pregnant, but it is not impossible. Alpha males can’t become pregnant. All alphas will respond to an omega in heat, regardless of possibility for procreation. An alpha female stands a much better chance of becoming pregnant by an omega male in heat than by any other means, but will also respond to omega females’ heat even though there is zero chance a child would be conceived.

Betas of either biologic sex function much the same as our universe. Beta is considered the ‘default’ setting for humanity. They are much less sensitive to an omega’s heat than an alpha. However they still respond and will take advantage of an unbonded omega if given the chance.

Omegas are the universal child bearing orientation. They are generally highly fertile. Biologic females can become pregnant at any time; biologic males are only able to become pregnant during heat. During heat omegas become crazed and are unable to give effective consent, as their bodies do not allow them the presence of mind to refuse. Heats generally occur on a three to four month cycle.

Orientation has nothing to do with personality. Alphas are not assumed to be dominant, nor are omegas assumed submissive.

Bonds are considered permanent. Bonding is not accidental and can’t be forced. Bonding only occurs when the pair has been in near constant hormonal contact for at least two full heat cycles. This triggers a hormonal change in both partners, allowing them to exchange marks. It is still not fully understood how marks work, however they exchange information between bondmates, allowing them to discern the other’s mental and emotional state no matter the distance between the pair. Rare instances of multi-partner bonds have been recorded.

When bonds are severed by death the surviving partner generally does not live much longer. The loss of a bondmate is exceptionally traumatic even when it does not result in death and it is rare the surviving partner maintains mental stability. Surviving partners do not go back into heat, or respond to heats.

Heat triggers: Heat occurs naturally in adult omegas on a 3-4 month cycle. They can also be triggered by omegas in close proximity going into heat (sympathetic heat). Sympathetic heats are generally less fertile than natural heats. Certain chemical agents can trigger heat, though they are considered biologic weapons and are illegal in most countries. Heat can be suppressed by the ingestion of heat suppressors which release a low dose of alpha hormones into the omega, though these have not been approved for long term use.


End file.
